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bamboozledbird · 3 months ago

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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 2 / next.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader (You), Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, emetophobia, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After an awkward encounter with Lydia Martin, Stiles realizes that his new acquaintance might be the perfect person to jumpstart his 15-year plan. You, on the other hand, aren't interested in discussing your ex-best friend; you're much more focused on the man who was attacked by the mysterious beast ravaging the town.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support so far. So many of y'all have been so sweet :') Comments and reblogs are love.

Monday came, and you’d forgotten about Stiles Stilinski and his sweatshirt. In all fairness, you almost forgot your essay too. Lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps lack of Wellbutrin—you’d also forgotten if you’d taken your pills before you left for school.

You crinkled your nearly empty can of Red Bull a few times and twisted the tab in circles until it snapped off. Nervous habit. You flicked the tab into a trashcan and squeezed the can until it crumpled in on itself. Okay, you’d definitely forgotten to take your pills. However, on your list of things to forget, homework outranked antidepressants by several places, so your day wasn’t off to the worst possible start in the world. Dr. Lin always said that you should spend at least five minutes every morning changing your ‘self-talk’ to ‘gratitude, not negatude’—she also said that consistently taking your meds was imperative to your mental health, but one out of two wasn’t so bad. See. Positive thinking; you were killing it.

It was, however, pretty damn difficult to put a positive spin on a bloodied school bus cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape.

You lingered on the outskirts of the swarm of teenagers gawking behind the barricade that a few deputies were fruitlessly attempting to enforce. The back door of the bus was crumpled in the middle, wrenched open, and barely clinging to life with a lone intact hinge. More concerning, was the blood smeared across the yellow paint and the bloody handprints pressed against the windows. You peered through the mass of shoulders in front of you and cupped your hand over your eyes. There were four large gouges in the door and tears in the vinyl seats—claws: you realized. They were claw marks.

Baffling. The entire scene was, in all sincerity, baffling.

Awful, you quickly corrected yourself. The carnage was awful, first and foremost. It was awful, horrific, and totally tragic…but it was also bizarre. Animals, wild or not, generally didn’t hunt on school grounds; that honor was reserved for creepy super-seniors and perverse volleyball coaches. You chewed on your bottom lip and stewed. A bear seemed most likely, given the battering the bus took, but Beacon Hills was a long way from Los Padres. Mountain lions and coyotes, on the other hand, often strolled into small-town suburbia to snack on the occasional unaccompanied support animal. Still, you doubted they had the strength or dexterity to rip a steel door off of its hinges.

The first warning bell rang, and it was especially shrill while you were lost in your own head. You managed to not flinch with a herculean effort and pushed through the remaining voyeurs towards the front doors. Stuffing your airpods into your ears, you turned up the volume on your phone until the bass vibrated all thoughts of coyotes, cougars, and bears out of your mind. Oh my.

Positive: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention.

Negative: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention.

You grabbed your chemistry notecards, a few highlighters, and a fat stack of books from your locker just as an overly-cologned jackass shoved his equally pungent friend straight into your crowded arms.

Positive: You hadn’t gotten the chance to organize your notes by unit number before they scattered all over the floor.

Negative: They were still scattered all over the floor.

Biting back a few choice expletives, you crouched down and gathered your notecards into a messy heap. You stretched across the scuffed tile for your highlighters; one brushed past your fingertips and rolled into the pointed toe of a sleek brown leather boot. You glanced up, apology ready, but your tongue went cottony when you locked eyes with Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin was many things to many people, but you supposed the general consensus would be that she was the apex predator—regardless of what the bloodbath outside might lead a person to believe. Most students were consenting prey. Enthusiastically consenting, in fact. You understood the impulse. Knowing she could destroy you, that was the thing that made Lydia so undeniably captivating.

Lydia was…sublime. That was the only word for it. She was the duality of fear and attraction. She defined indefinable beauty—because she wasn’t just beautiful (anybody could be beautiful), Lydia was fiercely beautiful and, in the same breath, the grace of girlhood. She was…she suckerpunched Jordan Aadams in the third grade for making fun of your eyes without lifting a single manicured finger; that was the closest you could come to explaining the phenomenon Lydia Martin left in her wake.

Lydia’s thick red curls spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at the obstacle in her path. The angry pinch in her brows softened briefly once she made eye-contact with you, but she quickly corrected her slip and schooled her face into a blank expression. Returning her attention to her friend, Lydia’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped over your copy of Metamorphosis and continued on with her conversation like it hadn’t ever stopped. Like you were just a mirage or a distorted oil-slick reflection—like you were a ghost who just wouldn’t fucking die already. You watched her go, forgetting to blink, until they reached Lydia’s locker on the other side of the hall.

Before she got extensions, Lydia liked to wear her hair in a French braid. Before she discovered full-coverage concealer, her freckles were golden against the fairness of her cheeks. Before everything fell apart, she was your best friend.

In the end, it wasn’t a terribly dramatic thing. There wasn’t a melodramatic scene or an explosive fight; sometimes, you wondered if that would've been better. There was a certain kind of brutality to a slow, quiet death; one that lasted long after the hot water turned cold and shampoo stung your eyes. After the funeral, you could taste decay in your conversations, in your silences. The rot crawled listlessly—everything did back then—tauntingly sluggish. You saw the end coming weeks before you stopped speaking, and you didn’t even try to stop it. To be fair, Lydia didn’t either.

On the first day of seventh grade, Lydia had new friends; they all smelled like vanilla and owned matching couture purses. She’d always been magnetic, but evidently losing her only constant was her final quest before she transcended to godhood. You made her human; that must have been the problem. You were babies together. You were more than family. Now, you sat across from each other in a class you couldn’t bring yourself to care about, and you did not look at each other unless it was straight through.

You snatched the runaway highlighter and quickly sunk back against the wall, pressing into it like you could force your body through the cracks in the bricks or at the very least shed the sentimentality clinging to your skin. You darted your gaze across the hall and almost snorted when you saw the amount of people who’d flocked to Lydia’s side in the span of no more than thirty seconds. Lydia was unobtainable, unknowable—and yet ever so desirable. No one really knew her, so of course they all wanted to be her.

Lydia only liked one of them, the new girl with shiny black hair and dark eyes; you could tell. Her top lip pursed ever so slightly when she was holding back a barbed comment and a violent eye roll. Usually, Lydia didn’t bother with niceties, but for whatever reason she’d decided her new persona should only intimidate peons with looks and confidence, never brains. It was a shame, really; her cave-dweller boyfriend desperately needed educating.

You resisted the urge to look across the hall again and smoothed out the bent corner of a notecard until ‘alpha’ became ‘alpha particle’. A shadow fell over the pink-highlighted text, and you frowned. Glancing up, your frown cemented when you saw Stiles’s elven nose and remembered that you still had his sweatshirt wadded on your desk chair.

“Hey,” Stiles adjusted his grip on his backpack, “did your car make it home okay?”

You nodded and shut your locker with your elbow, bending with the wobbling tower of school supplies in your arms until it stabilized again.

“Cool.” He nodded a few times, mouth puckered like a duck, and scratched at the back of his neck, “So. You and Lydia, huh.”

You stared intently at your notes, “Is that a question?”

“No, it’s a statement.” He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and leaned back slightly, “And that episode of telepathic taekwondo was definitely a statement.”

You glowered until ‘alpha decay’ and ‘helium-4 nucleus’ mushed together into an illegible pink blob, “I’ve got a statement for you—only two words actually.”

“So it is a thing.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he grabbed the books from under your arms.

You refused to feel grateful, even as you readjusted your grip on your cards and freed one of your hands, “Get lost, Stilinski.”

“That’s three words.” The smirk was deafening now.

The one-minute warning bell rang and a mass of students swarmed the hallway, effectively drowning out Stiles’s smugness with a sea of jock whooping and band geek trumpeting. You met his gaze and smiled, quick and sickly-sweet, before stepping around him, “Kindly. Choke.”

You ignored the sound of Stiles’s large footsteps following far too closely behind you. You wanted to be annoyed with him, but English was his first-period and he did have your books in his stupidly big hands. Instead of flipping him off, you focused your itching fingers on stacking cards and pencils on top of your desk until Stiles sat down in the seat next to you—without permission. You changed your mind; he was annoying.

Stiles scooted the desk closer to yours with his feet, and the metal legs screeched against the linoleum flooring for you. “Was it like a ‘grew apart over the summer’ thing, or did some serious shit go down?”

You sighed heavily and lined your pencils and pens next to each other, first in order of length and then color, “Why do you care?”

His mouth remained open for a second, and then he shrugged a little too casually, “I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“You’re unnaturally irritating,” you grumbled, low in your throat, and scowled at your picked-apart cuticles like they had done you a particular disservice.

Stiles huffed through his nose and threw his hands in the air, “Come on, I totally saved your ass Friday—very chivalrously too, might I add. I won’t even press charges for the theft.”

“Theft?” you finally turned around in your seat to face him at the accusation.

Stiles nodded solemnly, “My sweatshirt. My most favorite sweatshirt of all the sweatshirts.”

Oh. You deflated a little; you’d forgotten about that pesky little detail again. You snatched your books off of his desk before your lives could become further entangled and replied flatly, “I’ll overnight it.”

“No, I insist you keep it.” His smile was a little too crooked to be truly cocky, “I’m a good guy like that.”

You tapped your pencil against your chin, eraser side up, and cocked your head to the side, “Isn’t it incredible how every self-proclaimed ‘good guy’ is exclusively terrible.”

Stiles’s face twisted into a petulant scowl as he collapsed against the back of his chair, and you were a little surprised that the desk managed to contain all of his gangly appendages without collapsing as well. “I like her, okay!” His exasperated confession carried to the next row of students, and Stiles melted into his seat when a jacked sophomore with no neck whistled lewdly behind you. Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles lowered his voice, “Actually, I’m kind of in love with her if you want to be technical about it.”

“Oh.” You blinked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh, asshole.”

“Sorry,” you grinned, not sorry in the slightest, “it’s just…isn’t everyone?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed wistfully, “Not like I am.”

You turned to get a better look at him and didn’t mask the doubt in your eyes. He was wearing a brown flannel that was practically mewling for a good ironing and a red t-shirt with the silhouette of a spider embossed over his chest. Spider-Man’s emblem, obviously. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say it was the Andrew Garfield version. Regardless, it was blatantly clear that Stiles’s homeplanet was lightyears away from Lydia’s.

You folded your arms over your chest and leaned back against your seat, “Have you even talked to her?”

“Technically…no,” Stiles dipped his head from side to side like a bobble head and then pressed his palms together, gesturing with them every so often to emphasize the most ridiculous words in his sentence, “but we have a deep, unspoken connection, mostly via sporadic eye-contact.”

You just looked at him, unamused and unimpressed.

Stiles held up his hands like a director and kicked his feet onto his desk, “It’s about the long-game.”

“Gross,” you pulled a face. You weren't sure if you were referring to the gray wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or the pride in his long-con. It was probably a bit of both.

“Are you gonna help a guy out or not?” Stiles nudged the leg of your desk with his sneaker—the gumless one, thankfully—and sent one of your pens careening towards the edge.

You caught it before it could hit the ground and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not an ‘in.’” You returned the pen to its rightful place between your pencil and purple highlighter: a perfect rainbow of neuroticism. You straightened your row of writing utensils again and swallowed shallowly, “I don’t even know her anymore.”

For the first time since Stiles had popped up in front of your locker like a chronic zit, understanding clicked in his eyes. Actually, he almost looked apologetic. Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned forward onto his forearms, “So…what happened? Did you not make queen bee first-string?”

“No,” you bristled. After a long exhale, you crumpled in on yourself a little and mumbled, “Yes…kind of. I don’t know. I have my version; I’m sure she has hers.”

Stiles clasped his hands together and nodded sagely, “There are as many truths as there are people.”

Your brows scrunched, and your eyes went lidded as you flipped through your mental philosophy rolodex, “Camus?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Evangelion.”

You were startled into a snorty chortle, “Obviously you’re a weeb.”

Stiles hid his amusement behind a slow roll of his eyes, “You’re at least 1/16 weeb if you know Evangelion is an anime.”

Before you could deny such blasphemy, you were distracted by the boy who usually sat next to you—Greg something, you were pretty sure—coming to a stop directly between you and Stiles. He lingered next to the side of his desk, breathing heavily through his mouth like some kind of sick prowler.

Stiles glanced at him with a flat expression and then looked up again, brows shooting towards his hairline, when he didn’t leave, “Can I help you?” He jerked his head forward and shook it slightly, “Need a mint?”

Greg Something stared at him, red-rimmed eyes thoroughly glazed over, and you wondered if being faded at 7:45 in the morning was worth the tortuous five-hour wait until lunch.

“No?” Stiles waved his hand in the air; Greg didn’t even blink. “Okay seeya.”

It took him roughly 30 seconds to comprehend what Stiles was saying, but eventually Greg shuffled towards one of the remaining empty seats in the middle of the classroom.

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered before returning his attention to the side of your face.

You smirked slightly at your notebook, doodling a little bird with sharp talons along the margins of your notes on Kafka’s thoughts on absurdism—spoiler alert: the guy who wrote a book about a dude randomly transforming into a bug was a big fan of it. You added a long feathered tail to your bird and said, “It is his seat.”

Stiles scoffed and looked over his shoulder. You both watched Greg shove a handful of Cheeto Puffs into his mouth in slow-motion for a moment, and Stiles replied, “I think he’ll live.”

“Oh,” you shook your head a little, freshly bitten lips curling around the extended vowel, “I’m not worried about him.”

Stiles clicked his pen aggressively with his thumb and pressed his mouth together until his lips disappeared into a flat line. “If you would just answer my questions the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep asking them, so, for the love of god—” fortuitously for him, he was cut off by a loud scratchy buzz before you could succumb to your base instincts and throw an eraser into his flapping mouth.

Principal Montoya’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker, “Attention students: I know that many of you are concerned about the…incident in the parking lot, but rest assured that the police have it well in hand. Classes will proceed as scheduled as they continue their investigation. Have a productive day, Cyclones.”

A resounding groan echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway, followed by the hum of students breaking into various complaints. Mr. Lyman thwacked his pointer against the whiteboard, and the force of his swing sent the cartoonish hand on the end of the stick into rapid vibration—effectively shutting everyone up. The quiet was only disturbed by the rustle of zippers being unzipped and papers being smoothed when he instructed everyone to turn their essays in.

You hastily wrote your name across the top of your paper and pointedly kept your eyes on the board when Stiles leaned across his desk. “Life’s short, y’know. One day you’re a traveling salesman, and the next you’re a grotesque, monstrous insect, wishing that you’d seized life when you had the opposable thumbs for it, so—”

“A man just died; have some class,” you interrupted him, voice dry as it was soft. Stiles might not care about getting in trouble, but you’d worked very hard to remain on a no-name basis with all your teachers.

“We don’t know that he’s dead—or that he’s a he.”

“Oh yeah,” you jotted down the daily prompt in your notebook and muttered, “I’m sure the guy just decided to go home and sleep off the mauled limbs.”

“It could’ve been an animal,” Stiles huffed, bowing his head in submission when Mr. Lyman shot him a stern look from behind his desk. He continued with his hand over his mouth, muffling his words, “And they do run off to die alone.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “That’s cats. Are you saying a bear ripped a bus apart for a cat.”

“Well, if you say anything in that tone, it’s going to sound ridiculous,” Stiles muttered sullenly against his palm, and you were pretty sure that he was pouting behind it too.

You opened your mouth to reply and then squinted slightly when a boy with floppy hair skidded to a halt in front of you. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Greg, who was now licking the nearly toxic orange dust off of his fingers.

“Sit, Scotty,” Stiles jerked his thumb towards the empty desk behind him. “Good boy.”

The boy, Scott you gathered, did not look amused, but he sat down behind Stiles anyway and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Stiles whipped around and responded in a hushed screech.

You were distracted from her eavesdropping when Lydia’s friend sat down next to Scott—directly behind you. Her jaw could cut glass. You dropped your chin onto your folded arms and refused to let yourself frown; the end result was a slightly constipated pout. It was just…Allison had just started going to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, and she was already completely intertwined in Lydia’s life.

Lydia was…prickly, so you were just surprised, that’s all, how easily Allison fit into her life. More palatable, you thought as you risked a peek over your shoulder; she must be more palatable than most. A terrible, ugly thing creeped over you, and you found yourself imagining Allison choking on her beautiful, silky black hair until her beautiful dark eyes popped out of her head. Just for a moment. A brief, awful, horrible moment—until you remembered it wasn’t Allison’s fault.

“Hey.” You flinched when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You reluctantly shifted in your chair so that you could see Allison. You just looked at her for an uncomfortable moment, and Allison smiled awkwardly, “The tests.” You blinked and licked your dry lips, at a loss for words. Allison smiled again, a little nervous but still kind, “They're on your desk.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly and reached for the pile of papers on your desk that you’d missed during your lengthy period of dissociation. You kept one and then held out the rest to Allison, mumbling, “Sorry,” under your breath.

Allison looked at you for a moment, and you didn’t like the discerning look in her doe eyes. “It’s okay. I zone-out all the time.”

You could see why Lydia liked her; she was nice, overly so. You felt that ugly feeling slip into your mouth again, bitterness coating your tongue, and you wished that Allison was catty or at very least a vapid twit who was either too stupid or too self-involved to notice other people—like the rest of Lydia’s circle.

“I like your necklace.” Allison nodded a little towards the black chain around your neck.

A heavy pendant rested just over your sternum; the maze etched into the stone had eroded in places, like it had been left out in acid rain for decades. You weren’t sure exactly what it was made of; your mother never said when she gave it to you, and you never asked. It didn’t matter much now.

“Thanks,” you finally said, because that was what normal people did when they were complimented, and you were a normal person. Mostly. You swallowed thickly and bit down on the scab in the center of your bottom lip before adding, “I like your jacket.” You did. It was simple, unadorned by gaudy zippers and lapels like so many of the other leather jackets on campus. You would wear it yourself if you didn’t break into a sweat in any temperature warmer than tepid.

Allison’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and you quashed the sigh rising in your throat. Her smile was magnificent. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off, but my friend convinced me to—” Allison let out a little breathy laugh, “Sorry, you definitely don’t want to hear my jacket’s tragic backstory.”

You didn’t, not if it included hearing about Lydia’s fashion tips second-hand. Still, you scraped up a little smile, “As long as it doesn’t begin with a cow, you’re golden.”

Allison laughed and held up her hands, “It’s faux; I promise.”

“Ladies,” Mr. Lyman called from across the classroom, “I wasn’t aware that existentialism was so amusing.” You felt a dizzying heat crawl up your neck to your ears once you realized that the only noise in the room, other than Allison’s tinkly laughter, was the scratch of pencils on paper as students worked on their tests.

“Sorry,” you mumbled at the same time, and Allison mouthed another ‘Sorry’ just for you before you turned around. Damn. You liked her. How incredibly inconvenient. You almost wished that Stiles was still pestering you so that you had a real reason to be upset—until you finally got a good look at the mid-term, more specifically at the thickness of it. You flipped through the lengthy test and looked at the ceiling briefly: Six essay questions?

Positive: At least, you found a legitimate excuse to sulk.

Negative: You felt a migraine coming on.

Blessedly, whatever Scott had said to Stiles at the beginning of class was distracting enough to keep his, frankly obsessive, focus on him for the rest of first-period. You were even able to finish the final essay question without interruption—which was plenty difficult without being interrogated about your ex-best friend. You almost scoffed when you read the prompt: Whom do you sympathize with more, Gregor or his family? Who in their right mind would side with a pathetic parasite who couldn’t love anyone more than he hated himself? An uncomfortable, undeniable pang of melancholy sliced through your throat, and you were actually grateful for the distraction when the bell rang for second period and you had to pack up for chemistry.

The impending chemistry midterm, however, was evidently a touch too distracting because you didn’t notice that you’d regained your lanky shadow until you were in Mr. Harris’s classroom and he stole the flashcard in your hand. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned across the lab table and rocked onto your tiptoes. Your outstretched arm shook as you struggled to even brush your fingers against the cardstock, “I haven’t talked to her in years. Lurk elsewhere.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then shut it again, head bobbing helplessly for a moment, “I was just going to ask you about…Gregor. That last question was a real piece of work, huh.”

You plucked the card out of his grasp while he was distracted by his social ineptitude, “Uh huh.”

“Scout’s honor,” Stiles placed his hand over his chest and somehow made his big eyes rounder. His pink bottom lip jutted out ever-so slightly, but the quivering at the edges of his mouth gave him away. Sighing, he leaned his weight onto his palm: flat against the tabletop, fingers spread, and far too close to your own. He gestured erratically with his other hand, and you jerked back to avoid being smacked in the face. “Personally, I’m on Grete’s side. I mean, you can only take care of your werebug brother for so long without some kind of recognition before you snap.” Stiles shot a pointed look over his shoulder at his friend from first-period, and you thought the glare Scott returned was well-deserved. You could be biased, but probably not.

“He was a little preoccupied by being, y’know, a bug.” You shuffled your notecards and frowned pensively at the question that ended up on top of the stack: What is the formula for Calcium acetate?

“He could’ve said thank you in Morse code.” Stiles looked over your shoulder and added, “C4H6CaO4.”

You flipped the card over and pursed your lips. He was right. “I actually said the same thing,” you admitted begrudgingly as you grabbed the next flashcard from the pile. “Not the Morse code bit, that’s objectively insane. I did say that the best thing he did for her was die.”

“Damn.” Stiles’s forehead wrinkled as he let out a puff of air, “A little harsh.”

You picked at your raw cuticles and wished you could pull your bottom lip over your head. “It’s like you said,” you muttered as you folded your arms firmly over your chest, ducking your chin towards the divot in your breastbone, “she could only deal with his depressed bullshit for so long before she got on with her life and made new, sane, non-insect friends who actually go outside, and have fun at parties, and respond to texts.” You paused and remembered that you needed air to function when your lungs started to burn. Exhaling shallowly, you pressed your calves against the stool’s frigid legs until it hurt. Maybe, if you crushed your limbs together tightly enough, curled in on yourself closely enough, you could disappear. “And don’t, y’know, crawl on the ceiling and projectile vomit Exorcist style,” you finished weakly.

Stiles studied you for a moment, and it was like he could see every painfully tender spot inside you. You felt ants crawling underneath your skin and him seeing you, and you wanted to bolt before you came completely unstitched at the seams. “Well,” he trailed off for a moment, rubbing the back of his head, “in all fairness, being there…that’s kind of the deal when you’re friends—even if they turn into a disgusting bug.” You didn’t know that someone so caustic could sound so gentle, like ink running across paper.

“Siblings.” You swallowed and looked away from his unyielding gaze, but you still saw amber and understanding every time you blinked. “You mean siblings.”

“Sure.” Stiles smiled a little and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Siblings.”

You swallowed again, couldn’t even manage a ‘see'ya’ or an eyeroll when he saluted you goodbye, and watched him saunter towards his seat next to Scott through your lashes with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. You felt a little sick once you realized that you weren’t relieved by his absence. It was all you’d wanted at the beginning of his inquisition, and yet…you wanted him to sit next to you. The epiphany struck you right in the stomach, and you felt a bit like one of your dad’s rare butterflies—tissue paper wings pinned to paper, fervently yearning to fly away, even if it meant ripping yourself apart.

Normally, you thoroughly enjoyed not having a lab partner. The class had an odd number of students, and Mr. Harris either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that you never joined another pair during labs. It was a toss-up, considering he seemed to loathe his job as much as he loved devoting his undivided attention to mocking Stiles. Speak of the bifocal-ed Devil.

“Mr. Stilinski,” the contempt in Mr. Harris’s voice was sickeningly viscous. You imagined mucus dripping from his thin lips; it helped quell some of the righteous anger in your gut. He continued, and now he was spitting up slugs and snot, “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No–” Stiles’s jaw hung open as he shook his head violently.

Mr. Harris silenced him with a glare, and your fingers curled into your palms as you watched the condescension gloss over his smirk when Stiles complied. Your jagged, bitten-down nails pinched your skin; you quickly flattened your hands on top of the table before you did something stupid like draw attention to yourself. It was none of your business, after all, and you had a test to prepare for.

You stared at your notes, reread the same sentence over and over again without comprehending a single word, until you felt the uneasy sensation of someone sneaking up behind you.

“Hey,” Stiles sat down on the empty stool next to you and kicked at your shoe lightly under the table. You hummed in recognition and slid your textbook over to make room for his things.

Stiles’s face scrunched as he flipped through his own notes. You couldn’t read most of it—not that you were looking; his hand-writing was just glaringly atrocious. Everything was smooshed together and most of the letters were partially incomplete, like his pencil couldn’t keep up with his brain. You looked back at your own notebook, at the meticulously symmetrical loops and compulsively straight lines, and the corner of your mouth curled into a brief smile.

The quiet was nice, but you couldn’t shake the irritation sticking to your fingers. You tapped your pencil against your notebook a few times, bit down on the inside of your cheek, and then said, “He’s a dick.” You spoke quietly, but Stiles still flinched. The highlighter in his hand left a long yellow streak across his textbook, and you winced. Truthfully, you were equally startled that you’d voluntarily broken a perfect moment of silence.

Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the new mark permanently defacing his book, most likely because a good portion of the glossy pages were already more yellow than they were white. He angled his chin towards you and smirked, “Are you legally allowed to call a teacher a dick? Y’know, as the resident teacher’s pet.”

You grinned at your notes, “I have the utmost authority, actually.”

Stiles leaned forward onto his forearms and struggled to keep his mouth impassive, “Oh, yeah?”

A loud, grating squeal of metal on tile and an even louder yelp interrupted your reply. A girl near the front of the classroom shot up out of her seat, almost sending her stool toppling to the ground, and then bolted towards the window overlooking the parking lot, “I think they found something!”

Mr. Harris quickly lost control of the classroom as the rest of the class surrounded her, practically pressing their stupefied faces against the glass to get a better look at what, or rather whom, the EMTs were wheeling out of the thicket of trees just beyond the school’s perimeter. You hesitated for a moment before joining the stragglers. Morbid fascination dwindled after you were confronted with the reality of it—you weren't in any rush to see another dead body.

You weren't ever supposed to actually see the photos; they were strictly evidence for the potential arson investigation. The coroner didn’t even want your dad to see the body. There hadn’t been any point, after all; it was completely unidentifiable. At the time, you thought it would help. You thought peeking at the case file while the Sheriff was on the phone might remind you of some crucial detail, hidden in the depths of your blackout—and, well, you thought it might finally make it real. Maybe, if you saw the proof, you’d finally believe that your mom wasn’t coming back.

You’d been wrong, of course. Seeing what was left of your mom, seeing her like…that, it’d just made you puke. Your whole body had trembled from the retching, and then you were paralyzed, held hostage by a glacial streak of terror. Sheriff Stilinski had been so terribly understanding about the whole thing, like it was nothing: vomit on his office floor, trembling hands invading his private files. He’d just wiped the corners of your mouth with a tissue and rubbed your upper back in slow circles, just like her your mom did when you were sick—which ultimately sent you into another round of dry-heaving. You never felt the temptation to look again.

You let out a deep breath when you looked out the window and saw the man on the gurney twitch. His jacket and pants were black, and his shirt was charcoal gray, dark enough to hide any blood stains. The only injury you could make out was a large gash on his face; it was still bleeding sluggishly, leaving a sticky red trail from his jaw to his neck. Your grip on your forearms tightened as your stomach lurched.

The paramedics began to load the gurney into the ambulance, and the man surged forward without a single warning. His screams were raw, like they’d been ripped from his throat along with the flesh on his cheek, and every single one of the students crowded against the windows recoiled from the wailing. You swallowed the bile burning your throat. It was like they were watching their own, personal horror movie and couldn’t decide if they were more exhilarated or horrified—just itching for the jump scare.

You stumbled back towards the door and bumped into Stiles and Scott. Stiles gripped your arm gently until you regained your footing.

“That’s not a rabbit,” Scott said under his breath. He looked as queasy as you felt.

“Or a cat,” you added quietly.

“But he’s alive,” Stiles nudged Scott a little, “that’s good, right? Dead guys can’t do that.”

Scott still looked like he was going to hurl all over Stiles’s white Vans, and you felt a flutter of sympathy. The only thing worse than puking was doing it in front of other people. “You might want to take him somewhere,” you spoke softly to Stiles. “He looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded a little and wrapped an arm around Scott’s rigid shoulders, “good call.”

His eyes darted around the classroom: big, and brown, and frantic—like a lost fawn. You nodded towards the dark corner Mr. Harris was dissociating in, “I’ll cover for you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled a little, but he looked weary down to his bones as he started shuffling Scott towards the door.

“Yeah,” your smile was a bit wobbly at the edges, “but only ‘cause I get a sick thrill out of fucking with dicks.”

Your weak attempt to ease some of the tension in the air was semi-successful; Scott was still staring into another dimension, but Stiles looked positively giddy at the prospect of such a perfect setup. “I have, just, so many thoughts on that, but I’ll save them for after Scott—” he gave Scott a long look and scratched the back of his buzzed head, “gets his blood sugar up.”

It was sweet, you thought as you watched Stiles guide Scott into the hallway, lying to spare Scott’s pride. You thought Stiles would be a better liar, but maybe that was the downfall of being raised by a police officer. It was either that or the general social impotence. Not that you had much room to talk; silence was your preferred method of social interaction.

The classroom was far from silent now. Students were spread out across the room in little clumps. Some spoke in furious whispers. Others weren’t as discreet, and you could hear every single preposterous word that left their mouths. The amount of sophomores who didn’t know that the California grizzly bear went extinct almost a century ago was a very depressing glimpse into the public education system, but at least there were only two boys howling obnoxiously at a few giggling volleyball girls. Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone and typed ‘Beacon Hills bus attack’ into the search bar.

You refreshed the webpage obsessively, all throughout chemistry and art class, until an article finally popped up on your screen at lunch. You bit into your slightly bruised apple and squinted at your phone, immensely grateful for the empty courtyard as you came across the grittier details.

You always ate lunch outside; it was quieter without the echoes of gossip and laughter, and the heady scent of cut grass was far preferable to whatever monstrosity the cafeteria was serving that day. Today, the afternoon heat made the earthy warmth especially thick in the air. Normally, you loved that smell, the smell of summer. It reminded you of frenzied August afternoons, running through Lydia’s sprawling backyard and swinging into brisk lake water, but the smell was quickly becoming suffocating the more you read.

The man who was attacked was a bus driver. He was smiling in the photo they’d chosen to include before pictures of the crime scene, like a warped ‘before and after’ ad. You dropped your half-eaten apple into your lunch sack and shoved it to the side when you got to the background bits. Garrison Myers had a family, a wife and two daughters; they were praying for his unlikely survival. Your throat hurt, and you wondered if there was an apple chunk lodged in your esophagus. Swallowing hard, you scrolled down to the police interview. The deputy they managed to get a quote from clearly knew next to nothing, though he did posit the possibility of a mountain lion attack. You rolled your eyes. Maybe on PCP.

The only thing you were sure of was that whatever kind of beast ripped a woman in half and slashed a man to ribbons in the span of a week wasn’t going to stop. At least, not until it was killed.

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagines #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x you

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request "Please tell me you have a plan" in Hic Sunt Dracones verse pretty please ? <3

You certainly can! This is something I've been wanting to write for a while: a little bonus scene from Eddie’s pov, some time before the spring festival.

Come what may

Rated: T

Words: 998

Tags: Fantasy AU; Dragon Eddie; Prince Steve; Platonic Stobin; Hurt/Comfort; Mates; Soul Bond; That dragon is down bad

Notes: Bonus scene to Hic sunt dracones

Fate has a funny sense of humor.

You spend your entire life thinking that you don’t care for small things. Delicate things like dewdrops glistening in the morning light. Pretty things like smooth skin and chestnut hair, glowing gold in the sun. Soft things like the silky touch of flower petals. And then, one day, your world comes crashing down in a cloud of splintered wood and shattered stone and blood and pain, so much fucking pain- … only to reshape itself into something new, with the prettiest, softest, most delicate creature you’ve ever laid eyes on at its centre.

He never thought such a thing was possible. Then again, he only ever heard vague stories about what it felt like, finding your mate.

“Sweetheart? Everything alright?”

He never thought of himself as sweet, but here he is. He would be anything for this boy.

“There you are,” his beloved smiles when he turns his attention back on him, and pats the fresh bandage at the base of his tail with gentle hands - always so gentle. “Had me worried for a moment there. Thought I'd hurt you.”

“As if you'd ever hurt me, my love,” he wants to say, but all that'll leave his throat is a low, amused rumble. He goes for nudging his snout into his little mate's chest instead, and the boy yelps and nearly topples over.

He has never missed his other form before, content to stay this way for days and weeks on end, but now he finds himself longing for hands to return the boy’s touch, for lips to shower him in kisses, to press sweet words and playful bites into that soft skin.

“Hey, careful, you big brute,” his beloved scolds, but his smile is bright and happy, his voice brimming with pride. “You're getting stronger every day.”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic,” says another voice, and they both whip around. Oh yes, that's right, his prince brought his little friend today. She's perched on a rock a little way off and watching them with an unhappy quirk to her mouth. “What are you gonna do once he's back to full health? Have you thought of that at all?”

That smile dims. He bares his fangs at the girl and snarls, but his prince puts a hand to his snout and he quietens reluctantly. The girl sighs.

“Listen, you know I'm on your side, but you can't hide a fully grown dragon forever. Just- … Please tell me you have a plan?”

His mate sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Steve?”

“Not much to plan, is there?” The words come out clipped, all fake resolution. “He recovers, and then he leaves.”

The girl takes one look at his mate's face and her expression softens. “Listen, dingus, I know you two have gotten … attached. I wish there was another way-”

“-but there isn't,” his prince interrupts, suddenly intensely focused on searching for something in his bag of medical supplies. “I know that, you don't have to remind me. Now, don't you have somewhere else to be?”

She doesn't look insulted at being dismissed like that. In fact, the only thing swimming in her eyes as she stands is sympathy.

“Take care,” she mutters, patting his mate's shoulder. He doesn’t look up. “You too, big guy.”

He waits until her footsteps die down, and then he nudges his mate's shoulder with his tail, whining softly under his breath.

You don't seriously think I'd ever leave you, do you, my little love?

His prince finally drops the bag, sitting down in the grass and curling up against his side, soft and small and warm.

“Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry about me.”

He grumbles in annoyance, once again wishing for a set of human lips. His little mate still misunderstands him, sometimes. He has no doubt that this will change in time, once their bond grows stronger. Here and now, though, there's no comforting words he can offer, and the thought fills him with helpless rage.

There's a patch of wildflowers growing just next to their spot, bright and colorful and pretty. Following a sudden impulse, he snaps them off with his teeth. He needs to be careful with them, because they're so tiny and delicate, but he's starting to learn more and more about delicate things.

“I'm pathetic, huh?” his prince mutters, pressing his face into his side, fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of scales there. “I mean, I know you can't stay forever, it's just … I wish you could. It's stupid, I- ugh, what are you doing?”

His little love yelps as he drops the flowers on his head, reflexively trying to brush them off. Then, he realizes what they are and pauses. His pretty eyes are large as he looks up.

“Sweetheart? Are those for me?”

He rumbles his confirmation, basking in the picture that is his mate. Flowers in his lap, on his shoulders, in his hair. They suit him so well. He's going to crown him in flowers one day, whole wreaths of them so he'll never need to wear the ugly, heavy things made of metal and gemstones that humans insist on putting on their kings.

His prince smiles, warm and bright like the rising sun, and he purrs in reply, leaning their foreheads together. He cannot convey his love in words yet, but he can show it with touch. He cannot return those caresses and kisses yet, but he will. He'll return them a thousandfold, once he's strong enough to shift again, and he won't ever stop, for as long as they both live. He belongs to this boy, just like this boy is his. His beloved may not fully understand it yet, but he does. Their very souls started to entwine on the day they met - a bond that will only grow stronger for as long as they both live.

They won't ever part, come what may.

And when they leave this place, it will be together.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #hic sunt dracones

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

Heya, this is a somewhat specific Glitchy Red x GN! reader request (romantic or platonic; I don't really have a preference). Feel free to ignore this if it happens to be overwhelming.

So, Glitchy Red. We all know him: a vengeful sentient glitch designated wrong by his creator and left to be forgotten and replaced by the next generation. He's nothing but a lone sentient trapped in the endless sea of mindless NPCs whose purpose is to be controlled by a player.

And then we have a streamer!reader who acts like Failboat: a chaotic, happy-go-lucky, and slightly unhinged individual whose humor can be described as morally questionable. It doesn't help that their chat relentlessly takes (light-hearted) jabs at them and gives them Ls every time they mess something up in the game, as well as having a random obsession with Gex the Lizard.

What if Glitchy Red somehow faceplanted into the Pokémon Violet game and meets streamer!reader, who was doing a Nuzlocke? Maybe Red has a one-sided dislike of them until he grows to tolerate them without realizing it.

I got inspired by this video and one of the works you did, fdgdrsgdgdrg ( https://youtu.be/DQsfj3gvd9I and https://clanwarrior-tumbly.tumblr.com/post/702954957291372544/been-binge-reading-your-poke-pasta-stuff-i-dont )

Omg I wish I discovered Failboat sooner bc that nuzlocke video you showed me was hilarious

THANK you for it <333333

.........

"Yes! We caught the Salandit! Sorry I took you away from your family, bud..but you're mine now. This one's a male but it's fine. He doesn't need to be a Salazzle to be strong and beautiful. All he needs is a name..any ideas, guys?"

Looking to the chat for a brief moment, you saw new comments already flooding in, your viewers throwing out several names you could give your newly-acquired companion (who was likely going to be "sacrificed" at some point).

You've been doing livestreams of the Nuzlocke challenge throughout your gameplay of Pokémon Violet. And while you finished the main game without having to start over, you decided to try your hand at the Teal Mask DLC.

You were still early in the story, but you wanted to take your time with it, focusing on catching one 'mon in each area.

With Salandit as the first you came across, you allowed your viewers to name him, and fortunately an overwhelming majority of them already had one figured out:

"Gex!"

"Gex the lizard!!"

"Who tf is Gex???"

"OMG haven't heard that name in years!!"

"IT'S TAIL TIME!!!"

"I like Gex"

"Okay, Gex it is!" Grinning from ear-to-ear, you named Salandit before sending him out to "kill" all the other wild unsuspecting Pokémon. You just laughed, happy to see your son going out and wrecking havoc and destruction...

Until you accidentally made him target a stronger Pokémon that sent his health into the red zone.

"Gex wore itself out and came back to you!" The message popped up as the poor lizard scurried back to your side, and you restored his health.

Your viewers, meanwhile, were spamming the comments with a single letter.

"L"

"Oh stop it, you guys." You shook your head, amused. "I misclicked.... you gotta give me a break."

They kept coming regardless, so you put your strongest Pokémon as the first member of your party, deciding to battle a nearby trainer: one of the festival kids, as they were called.

Never before have you had an easier time doing a Nuzlocke run in this game--considering it's entirely free roam and you weren't forced into battles by making eye contact. The only issue was that the level-scaling was odd, and you've lost some treasured Pokémon along the way due to being so unprepared.

Of course, this challenge didn't come without you having to make some sacrifices.

Luckily you only ran into that issue with one gym leader who was more overleveled than you expected, but even then your viewers were relentless with their Ls, skull emojis, and the like.

Now that you've accomplished becoming champion, defeating the titans, besting Team Star, and saving all of Paldea from ecological doom.....you got to relax a little in this DLC.

Hopefully you wouldn't lose anyone by the end of it.

.........

"Oof I definitely could use this Pokémon...and the XP candies. What do you guys think? I'm in a new area so it counts."

"Do it!"

"YESSS"

"No they have to be in the wild!!!"

"What about no overleveled pkmn?"

"Oh, c'mon..it's three stars." You huffed at the last comment you read, shaking your head. "That ain't overleveled. Lemme see who can knock them out in one hit, hang on.."

Backing out of the tera raid menu for a moment, you looked at your roster, before checking your boxes for any "living" Pokémon who could take out the raid boss instantly.

But right as you found the perfect one, you noticed the sky glitching in the background, and after closing out of the menu....something rather bizarre happened:

A brief flicker of light in the sky, followed by an unknown entity falling to the earth. It looked like a person surrounded by glitchy particles--like the ones you'd see in old video games.

Of course, you knew Violet was notorious for its many broken animations and whatnot, but that was new.

You've never seen an NPC glitch like that before.

"Did ya'll see that? I'm gonna check that out really quick.."

Now completely ignoring the comments of confusion, you called out Miraidon to go investigate.....whatever you just saw. You had it speed towards the location, thinking that the mystery entity would despawn by the time you got there.

Luckily, it didn't, but you quickly realized it wasn't some Pokémon or even a trainer who belonged in this DLC.

In fact, he resembled the very first Pokémon protagonist:

Red, although this one had black spiky hair and didn't look anything like the lean kid trainer he was in previous generations.

Even so, this certainly gave you a whiplash of memories..as you recalled doing a Sun/Moon Nuzlocke challenge and were pleasantly surprised to see Red in the game.

And even before that, you did a Gold/Silver/Crystal Nuzlocke and almost lost horribly to him.

Yep..fun times, indeed.

"No way...it's Red again, guys! This is--oh shit, whoops."

A cutscene was triggered, although you swore that you didn't press any buttons. But you passed it off as your excitement over the thought of unlocking a hidden secret in this DLC getting out of hand.

Yet that happiness wore off and became replaced by a feeling of....nervousness.

Especially when you saw "Red's" expression.

He looked nothing short of menacing. Of course, he was usually a silent trainer and held a stoic demeanor...however this iteration of him almost appeared angry, for some reason. A dark shadow was hiding both of his eyes, even as he stared directly at you.

No, not at your player character who was standing off to the side.

But you, the player themselves

For a few moments nothing happened, and you thought the game was broken.

Then a dialogue box popped up, with "Glitchy Red" being the name above it, outright confirming your suspicions.

"Where am I?"

Normally, you would be able to respond with one of two prompts. But the box on the right side of the screen only had blank spaces in them, so you didn't know which one to choose.

You had no time to pick, as they quickly glitched out of existence, and Red shook his head.

"Forget it. I already know the answer...I'm in another goddamn prison." He stared at his hands with a bitter-looking gaze. "Why was I brought here? Why am I....in 3D?"

Besides from his swearing catching you off-guard, you were genuinely perplexed by everything else he was saying--especially the fact that he seemed self-aware, apparently speaking directly to you and able to influence your game.

"Is anyone else seeing this? Chat...?" You muttered, briefly glancing to the chatroom, knowing your viewers HAVE to be freaking out over this-

But there were no comments.

They've all suddenly gone offline due to an "internet connection" issue, and the viewer count was at zero. Even though you were still recording, nobody else was joining the stream.

It was just you and him.

"Sorry, I don't like to be watched."

Looking back at the dialogue box, your eyes widened as you read his response. 'How did he know I was doing a livestream? Is this something new from Gamefreak...? Did I get a bootleg copy of Violet?'

"I can't believe this jerk sabotaged my stream-"

"I can hear you, y'know."

"....w-wait..seriously??" You adjusted your headphones and the mic, seeing him nod. "How can you do that? And why are you in my game?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"..I feel like I'm going crazy. Am I going crazy-?"

"Enough questions. I'LL be asking them from now on."

Without warning, Glitchy Red turned to your character and put his hand around their throat, as though attempted to strangle them. Much to your horror, they didn't react with any emotion whatsoever...although upon making physical contact with them, their body began glitching.

It was the same particles he had around himself.

For some reason, you began feeling an intense pressure on your own neck, and you put a hand to it, eyes wide.

'What kind of voodoo shit is this?!'

"So this is what they replaced me with, huh?" He cocked his head to the side, grimacing. "It's bad enough that brown-eyed kid did, but...what generation is this?"

You snapped out of your shocked state, fearing that he'll end up corrupting your whole save file if you made him any angrier. 'I better play it cool and just answer him...'

"You're in um...Generation 9. Pokémon Violet."

"....Gen 9? I've skipped over that much? Interesting...who the hell is this, then?"

"M-My player character. Pokémon's come a long way, so now we can uh...customize our protagonists and change their looks entirely."

"...I see." He let go of your character, who thankfully stopped glitching, before his gaze went to Miraidon. "What the hell...this thing is a Pokémon, too?"

"Believe it or not, yeah. It helps me get around the map waaay faster" You chuckled as he stared at the futuristic dragon type with curiosity. "If I can tell you one thing about it...it loves sandwiches. Just say "sandwich" and see how it reacts!"

He just scowled at you, not appreciating your sudden cheeriness. "Does it look like I'm in the mood for jokes?"

"What? No, it's not a-"

"Then tell me everything about this game, and don't give me any useless crap."

.......

Glitchy Red ended up tagging along in your character's adventures throughout Kitakami. But it was really just him listening to you explain the game in further detail, alongside showing him how battles work.

Obviously, he was very much new to this generation given he was from an ancient bootlegged version of Red, so you had a lot to share. He seemed flabbergasted by fairy types, tera raids, etc..although you did remind him that he wanted you to tell him everything.

His only response was a scowl and making the Pokémon you wanted to catch flee, but you expressed no hard feelings.

In fact, you became less terrified and more thrilled that you were actually speaking to a video game character--and what luck you had for it to be Red, of all people! (despite this version being a grumpy sentient glitch who acted like YOU put him in here)

At some point, the chatroom came back online and your viewers returned, expressing concerns about why you went offline out of nowhere.

However the tone immediately shifted to Glitchy Red the moment they noticed him on-screen, and the comments practically exploded..or at least for a short time:

"Red????"

"Is that Red?"

"Did u unlock a secret character??"

"OMG GLITCHY RED FROM FNF???"

"Wtf hes not from fnf bro"

The flood didn't last long as he forced the comments to switch off, and he made it clear that he didn't want them on again. And he demanded that you stopped recording, too.

He accused you of trying to "use" him for entertainment...which spiraled into him ranting over being in a similar situation back in his old game where he had no choices and was forced to see things he didn't wish to (and even projecting onto your own character a little, too).

It caused him pain and nobody cared, he said.

But now?

Now that he has more power, free will, and the knowledge that he's no longer any player's character to control, he felt liberated.

Of course, he was angry about not being totally free from the video game realm..but this was better than being stuck in that broken cartridge.

He'd rather die than go back to it.

With all that's happened, he thought you would've been more scared of him and what he could do, or even angry that he sabotaged your livestream and messed up your experience with the DLC.

Yet you seemed totally unbothered by his presence now.

You were actually....happy to talk to him, and he didn't know what to make of this. So he just acts completely disinterested, his scowl never leaving his face as he judges pretty much everything you do.

He does, however, start to see the slightly "darker" side to your cheery attitude as you explain the general rules of Nuzlocke challenges--and the ones you've set up for yourself in Violet.

All the while, you're letting Gex mercilessly crush an outbreak of Cutieflies, laughing and praising him for his "kills".

As Glitchy Red watches, he suddenly wonders if you really have gone crazy...and it amuses him a little.

After spending some time progressing through the story, you began to notice that he disappears during the normal cutscene and doesn't disrupt them in any way. He could have easily ruined your first experience with the DLC.

Yet..he stayed out of the way.

His excuse was that he kept "fighting with the code", but you didn't buy it.

He was growing soft...although obviously you weren't going to say that to him.

............

After attending the festival of masks and meeting Ogerpon, you decided to set up a picnic somewhere near Oni Mountain. It was the perfect spot where you could see the other areas of Kitakami.

With your character wearing a jinbei and their own mask, you called out all six of your Pokémon, allowing them to run, play, and sleep.

At that same time, Glitchy Red showed up on-screen. And you were surprised to see him wearing his own red jinbei, along with a Pikachu mask.

Of course, you should have expected that.

"Nice outfit, Red." You chuckled. "I'm stuck with the green one, unfortunately."

"I had to datamine for this..and yet you tout about "customization" like it's the game's best feature.." He scoffed.

"Never said it was, but anyways..." You pressed ZR to summon a ball for your Pokémon to play with, smiling as they did so. "I gotta take care of these guys."

"Is that what you're doing?" Sitting on the bench at the table, Glitchy Red looked all around, watching your character interact with each of them. He noticed the hearts over their heads, prompting an eyebrow raise.

You didn't answer him, instead cleaning the dirt off Miraidon and watching the electric/dragon type shake itself dry, looking happy before it went back to taking a snooze.

Then he notices your character scrubbing soap onto Miraidon, before washing it off with a showerhead. The electric/dragon type growled happily as it shook off the water, a little music note over its head.

"What's the point of doing all of that?"

"To restore their HP, gain XP, and boost friendship levels." You explained. "I try to raise that as much as possible, because if you're best friends with your Pokémon..there's a chance they can survive a fatal hit. The game likes to say they don't want me "feeling sad"."

"...but if they were burned or poisoned, it would be useless." He remarked.

"True, but it's saved me a lot during my Nuzlocke run of the main game's story."

"I suppose it did...why do they name it after a Nuzleaf, though?"

You shrugged. "No clue. I just saw the challenge trending again and decided to hop on it."

".....you've been taking my presence rather well." He pointed out, his eyes becoming more visible now that his shadow wasn't as prominent. "At this point, they usually abandon me, or try to destroy the game...or send it to someone else begging THEM to destroy it."

"Well rest assured, I don't plan on doing any of those three things." Leaning back in your chair, you sighed. "I'll admit, I read a story like yours once as a little kid and it scared the hell out of me...."

He scowled darkly, which was a rather humorous contrast to the smiling Pikachu on his mask.

"...but now that I've gotten to know you better, I..do wanna say I'm sorry you've been treated that way for so long. It must've been lonely for you."

Then his gaze softened, and he looked down at the ground, shoulders slumped. "It was...hearing the same NPCs repeat the same damn lines over and over again was like torture. I kept wondering...why me? Why did I have to be the only one to wake up?"

"I don't know, Red..." You frowned slightly, hating to see him this way, although you perked up after getting an idea. "But I do know what'll cheer you up."

Glitchy Red looked back up at you. "What could you possibly have in mind? Don't tell me it's a stupid sandwich-"

"Agiaaas?"

Hearing the soft growl of Miraidon, he turned to see it now sitting in front of him, staring as though patiently waiting to be fed. And for a moment he seemed genuinely startled, still forgetting that he could be perceived by the Pokémon in this world.

It was actually kinda nice.

Although he abstained from petting it, fearing that he could accidentally corrupt it with his glitches, the legendary didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Instead, it just curled up at his feet, little bubbling z's floating over its head as it fell fast asleep.

'I guess it really does like the word 'sandwich'..'

"Why don't I show you the art of sandwich-making in this game, Red?" Your character went over to the table. "I'll tell you how this makes Shiny hunts easier...but you gotta promise not to laugh at my stacking skills."

For a second or two, he didn't say anything.

Then he stood up and put his mask off to the side of his head a little bit more, allowing you to fully see his face.

He seemed more relaxed, barely holding back a smile.

"I can't make any promises, but show me. I'd like a Shiny Pikachu."

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokepasta x reader #glitchy red #glitchy red x reader #streamer reader #platonic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months ago

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Role Reversal

Roman kept mentioning that he doesn’t like transformations and it kept reminding me of Patton turning into a giant frog and Janus disguising himself as other sides. It would be very cool and epic if you could make some Roman angst based off this concept (no pressure obviously) – anon

The song "I Am in Great Pain, Please Help Me" by Crywank reminds me so much of Roman (specifically, your brand of Roman angst). I was wondering if you had the spoons for it, to write something inspired by it? No pressure to, ofc! – anon

Perhaps something where Roman is comforting Logan and then after Roman leaves, Logan is like, “Wait, shit, I should have been comforting YOU!”. You know the scene in What Makes A Perfect Gift where Logan asks for Roman’s input and Roman looks genuinely surprised? The angst potential for Roman not thinking he’s needed at a BRAINSTORM is so slept on. I know you’ve had a lot of Roman angst asks lately so I understand if you don’t want to do it, but I definitely wanted to ask just in case! – anon

Roman angst disguised as Logan centric. Logan Sherlock fic about him trying to figure out why Thomas’s mental health is so bad. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman being insecure, logan being insecure

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3143

Logan feels stressed about Thomas's mental health and goes to Roman for help discussing a possible upcoming video, only for Roman to accurately guess that Logan's feeling insecure about his own role in keeping Thomas happy and healthy. Little does Logan know: there's more going on than meets the eye and it isn't until later that he realizes Roman's far more fragile than anyone could've guessed. After that, well, there's really only one course of action.

If Logan had not been paying very, very close attention, there is every possibility that he could have missed it.

He almost did; despite being entirely focused on his goal, he has to admit that it wasn't something he saw as necessarily related, and as such, dismissed initially as not relevant to solving the problem of why Thomas's mental health had been in a steady decline since the wedding. However, upon further reflection, he can conclude that not only was the sudden tightening of Roman's expression related, it was most likely the strongest indicator he's seen since he began.

"Sorry, Specs, I think my hearing cut out of a second there." Roman scratches the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Can you—can you say that one more time?"

"I believe it would be helpful for Thomas for us to do another 'low-key' video, as it were, and for you and I to work together."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"As we want to focus on recapturing some of Thomas's whimsy and zest for life—" here Roman's expression quirks towards amusement— "it would be apt for you to try and recreate some of the dreams Thomas has held onto in the past."

"Right, but not like—"

"Including transforming into those he aspired to be or the roles he aspired to fill," Logan finishes, frowning when there's that momentary tightness in Roman's smile again, "do you concur?"

"I—so I'm all for helping Thomas fall in love with his dreams again, you know, but, um…" He twists his fingers together. "I'm not sure that this is…the best way to do it?"

"You are the embodiment of Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Who else would be better equipped to help me?"

Roman blinks as if he hadn't been expecting the comment. Which is in and of itself a little odd; Roman typically never passes up the opportunity to remind them of his standing in Thomas's psyche, nor to claim credit for half of the things Thomas does even when it's far more of a group effort. "Right, but I don't see how me turning into various things would be helpful."

"Thomas is a very visual learner. It's been proven in the past via various theater productions and other activities that he thrives in environments where he can immerse himself in what it is he's doing. By having you, his Creativity, directly mimic the dreams he wishes or wished to obtain, we draw a more substantial connection between the Thomas that he is now and the Thomas he aspires to be."

Roman's mouth works. Logan frowns.

"If you have something you want to say, Roman, by all means, speak your mind. This brainstorm won't be nearly as successful if only one of us is contributing."

"Where is this coming from, Logan?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"This." Roman gestures back and forth between them. "This sudden need to 'fix' Thomas. You've been pretty clear with the rest of us that you don't think staying 'in his head' would be helpful, not when you're working so hard on your lists that you want him to do."

"Well, it's been pretty clear those aren't working, so—"

"But they have been. You know they have been—we all celebrated when Thomas finally managed to clean his kitchen and you were right, he did feel better afterwards. Your methods were working, are working."

Logan swallows. He did feel very accomplished after the last bowl had been placed in the cupboard, and no one had been happier than he when Thomas not only made himself dinner but cleaned up afterwards, but this was different. "Thomas deserves the drive to go after what he wants as well as doing the maintenance required to sustain his current lifestyle."

Roman nods. "And what sorts of things are those?"

"Roman, I don't understand—"

"Please," he interrupts, holding up his hands, "humor me?"

"You're the one who's Hopes and Dreams," he protests feebly, "you're Creativity. I'm not going to be good at coming up with them."

"Just try. You're better at it than you think."

"O-oh." He blinks. "Thank you, Roman."

"Of course."

"Uh—well, I think Thomas has a passion for filmmaking that he hasn't fully realized in shooting the YouTube videos due to the constraints of the channel."

"Okay."

"He's been enjoying doing the modeling shoots for Instagram as well. And he has a few shows that he wants to catch up on—not a dream, I know, but something he wants to do."

"That's good, Logan. What else?"

"Does he still have the dream of being an actor? On a more professional level?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, there you are, then."

Roman nods. "And if we go off of your transformation idea, what—what exactly would I be transforming into?"

He furrows his brow. "Well, you would be—if you were doing—I suppose you—ah. I see your point."

"It's not that there's something Thomas isn't that we need to make him into," Roman says quietly, "we can just remind him of the things that are already inside him that he can chase and pursue."

"…that is a very valid conclusion to have reached."

"He doesn't have to work all the time—I think both you and I know the dangers of letting yourself believe you can," he says with a gentle nudge to Logan's shoulder, "he can give himself time to rest and work on things that he wants to, not things that he has to."

"And I suppose making another video would be counterproductive to this aim, as it requires a level of work that would not be outweighed by the reassurance it might provide."

"I don't know if I would've said it nearly as well as you, but yeah, pretty much."

Logan sighs, closing his notebook with an almost despondent flap. "Then I suppose I have nothing else to work on."

"Good."

He frowns at Roman. "'Good?'"

"Well, now that means you can do the things that you want to do."

"M-me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did we not just go over how important it is to not be consumed by work all the time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Did we not just talk about how it's necessary to rest and do the things you want to do from time to time?"

"I don't—"

"Did you not just say that you have nothing else to work on right now?"

"I know what you're doing," he says, meaning for it to come out accusatory and missing dreadfully, "it's not going to work."

"Me convincing you to take time for yourself and enjoy spending your time how you want to spend it isn't going to work?" Roman grins, leaning forward onto his elbows, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Roman," he warns.

"What? It's not like I was the only one who came to this conclusion about Thomas a second ago, you were instrumental in figuring it out, Specs."

"Roman."

"And we all know that you're way smarter than I am, so if you're going to take your own advice—which you should, then—"

"Alright!" Roman laughs as Logan buries his face in his hands, trying not to smile too obviously at the praise or blush from how many compliments Roman's just given him, "you've made your point, you can stop now."

"I think you mean I've just reiterated your point, but that's alright." A warm hand pats his shoulder. "You're doing great, Logan. You don't have to stress out about this right now. Thomas has earned a break and so have you, okay?"

"…I suppose there are a few things I've been waiting to do that could occupy my time."

"There you go!" Roman claps his hands and gets up, affectionately ruffling Logan's hair and dodging his attempts to swat him. "Let me know how it goes, I'd love to hear about whatever you're working on."

Logan aims another swat at his shoulder and misses, watching Roman sink out. He shakes his head, unable to keep the growing smile off his face as he thinks about his own projects. Yes, there are several things he could do, he could work on refining the data for the experiment, he could read that study he's been eyeing for a few days, he could look over the manuscript he's drafting…

It isn't until he gets back to his room with a different notebook open on his desk that he pauses.

Why had Roman been upset at the suggestion of transformation?

They had agreed upon resting and doing what they wanted, letting Thomas do what he wanted. They had agreed that resting was good, pursuing one's own passions was good. What about transformations had rankled Roman so? He hadn't directly addressed it—something virtually unheard of for Roman. Perhaps it had been something to do with the act of transforming itself? But no, Roman had always been among the first to thrill at being someone else, or pretending to be someone else. What had caused such a dramatic shift?

What sorts of transformations had they done recently? There had been the whole thing with Remus—Logan suppresses a shudder as he remembers Remus's song and everything that happened in it—but Roman had been unconscious for most of it. Aside from that, it had been…

Well, Janus had been transforming into them more often than not, but that was him, mostly, not Roman. And Patton had become the giant frog, but that hadn't really affected Roman that much either. No, the last time Roman had been the one transforming, it had been…for…

Logan stands up, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance as his mind races.

Roman hadn't transformed for himself. It had always been at the whim of someone else. Roman was Hopes and Dreams—Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Roman did things for Thomas. He was Thomas's wants. Despite how often they all called him selfish, he…he didn't really fight for the things that he wanted.

Could he name a single thing that Roman wanted that wasn't something for Thomas?

I think you and I both know the dangers of believing you can work all the time.

There's nothing that Thomas isn't that we need to make him into.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers into the quiet room, "when did you get so good at hiding?"

He doesn't want to know the answer, but his mind is already coming up with a helpful list of every time he can remember where Roman let himself get pushed to the side, overruled, scolded, overlooked, for the sake of someone else. He thinks about the times where Roman had been obviously uncomfortable with what they wanted him to do, and then did it anyway. He thinks about how long it's been since he's actually heard Roman say what he wanted, not what Thomas wanted, not what Patton or Janus or even he wanted.

How long has it been since someone wanted Roman for Roman?

He looks back down at his desk and pulls out a different notebook. He's underestimated Roman. He won't go into this upcoming conversation unprepared.

***

He knocks on Roman's door as softly as he can, waiting for the quiet come in to push it open. Roman looks up from his—

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Roman," he murmurs before he can stop himself, crouching next to Roman's slumped figure and carding a hand through his hair, "I'm so sorry."

"N-no, I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I can—" he scrubs a hand harshly across his face— "it's fine. What, um, what do you—"

Another sob interrupts him before he can finish asking if Logan needs anything, which only makes his chest ache all the more. He eases himself down next to Roman's buckled legs and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough to wipe a thumb across his cheek.

"Shh," he says when Roman tries to speak again, "don't stress yourself. I'm not here for anything other than this, little one."

The pet name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, but at the slightly wounded noise that leaves Roman's lips, he resolves to use them as often as he can. He scratches his nails lightly against his scalp, shushing him again when he tries to stifle another sob.

"I'm here because I realized I'd hurt you earlier," he continues, still speaking gently, "and I did not attempt to comfort you in any way. No, no—don't pull away from me, dear. Shh, don't fret, don't fret, I'm not upset—look at me, Roman, do I look upset?"

Roman's eyes, still filled with tears, roam frantically over his face. Logan keeps his expression as soft and open as he can, letting the concern write itself plainly over the furrow in his brow. After another moment, Roman sniffles and he's already reaching for the tissue box he can see perched haphazardly on the end of the desk. He takes it with a grateful mumble and blows his nose with a honk.

"You were right. You don't need to change to be worth something, or to be fixed. You don't need to become something you're not—oh, darling, hush, now," he says when Roman's eyes grow wide with distress, "I'm not angry, I'm not—oh, you poor thing."

For Roman had begun to sob in earnest, trying in equal parts to pull away from Logan's embrace and push himself near into his chest. Logan slides an arm under his legs and pulls them into his lap, tucking Roman's face into the crook of his neck and kissing the crown of his head. There's a moment where Roman tenses and he fears he might pull away, but then he all but collapses into him and buries his nose in Logan's shirt.

"There you go, little one, shh, it's alright. You can cry, crying is good. You're alright, you're safe, I'm right here." He runs his hand up and down Roman's back. "Shh, shh, that's it…that's it, my dear."

"Sorry—'m so sorry—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no apologies from you, not about this. You're overwhelmed and overworked, it's perfectly alright for you to be emotional right now. You can let it out, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm here to help."

"Help?"

"Mm. You took great pains to comfort me earlier, even when I did not ask, and you," and here he gives Roman a little shake, "have not let anyone comfort you in quite a long time. So yes, I am here to comfort you, to help, and if that means letting you cry in my lap for as long as you need, then that is what I shall do."

"It's so hard," comes the sniffling whisper from under his chin, "I keep—I keep trying to be what they want but they don't know what they want and then it's my fault and I can't—they keep changing and wanting me to change and I can't—"

"Shh, shh…hush, my dear, it's alright. That's right, just let me hold you…"

They spend a great deal of time like that, curled up on the floor. Logan keeps carding his hand through Roman's hair, soothing away the more violent of sobs with gentle touches up and down his back or patting his chest. How long has Roman been holding this in? How long has it been since their prince has let himself fall apart without remorse? And how long has it been since they took pains enough to notice?

He pulls himself from his own thoughts when Roman's head turns, bumping slightly against his chin. He tilts his head to press a kiss to his temple, leaning back just enough to see the blotchy face come into view. Taking another tissue, he carefully dabs up the last of the tears he can see, holding it so Roman can blow his nose again.

"…thanks, Logan."

"Of course, my dear." He raises an eyebrow at the little shudder that goes through him. "No?"

"N-no, yes. Yes. Very much yes. Sorry."

"None of that now, my dear. Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit."

"That's excellent. Shall we sit here for a little longer, or do you want to move somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"C-can we just stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course we can." He runs his thumb over Roman's cheek again. "I am truly sorry it took me so long to figure out what was going on, little one. But I'm here now."

Roman averts his gaze and once again Logan is struck by how different Roman is right now; no longer does he see their fiery prince who so eloquently made him take his own advice mere hours ago, instead he sees a shell of a Side who shies away from a gentle touch like a dog too scared to eat. The comparison alone is enough to coax him to lean forward and kiss his cheek, cuddling him against his chest.

"I'm here now," he repeats, "let me look after you."

"You will?"

"Yes, Roman, I will. I'm right here—" he pulls him a little closer— "I've got you, little one, you're alright."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now?"

"…anymore."

Logan's heart clenches in his chest and he forces the ache away, running his thumb over his cheek once more. "Well, what do you want to do right now?"

"I want to stay here."

"Then we shall stay here. And when you're ready to figure out what you want to do next," he says, adjusting them until they're both comfortable as can be, "I will be here to help."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders

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nellasbookplanet · 10 months ago

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Book recs: possession, bodysnatching and bodysharing

Demons, ghosts, aliens, sentient bacteria, artificial intelligences - isn't there something fascinating about the idea of sharing a body with another being like a giant get-along t-shirt? No? Too bad, because I'm going to tell you about books featuring this trope anyway.

A note: multiple of these books are sequels where the bodysnatching/possession aspect plays little to no part in the first book. In all these cases, I still recommend starting with book one. I also in one case chose not to include a certain sequel that I loved as even mentioning it in this context would be a huge spoiler, so, uh, sorry about that.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Brain Plague by Joan Slonczewski*

Chrys, a struggling artist, agrees to become a carrier for a sentient strain of microbes. With their help, Chrys breathes new life into her career and becomes a success. But every microbe society is different - some function as friends and brain enhancers to their carrier, while others become a literal brain plague, a living addiction taking over the life of their carrier. And like every society, the microbe community is in constant flux - including the one inside Chrys's head.

Children of Ruin (Children of Time series) by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

Sequel to Children of Time. Millenia and generation spanning scifi. After the collapse of the Earthen empire, a project to terraform various planets and use them to uplift other species to sentience in left unfinished. However, both species and planets continue evolving on their own, and when what remains of humanity flees the dying Earth millenia later, these planets might be their only hope of survival. But the uplifted species aren't the only intelligent life out there, and are far from the most dangerous as the survivors encounter something capable of terraforming the human body itself.

Leech by Hiron Ennes*

Unbeknownst to humanity, a sentient hive mind has taken over the entire medical profession to ensure the health of their host species. One of their doctors is sent off to an isolated location where they’re cut off from the rest of the hive mind, only to realize they’re faced with a rivaling parasitic entity. Leech hands you only just enough information to get by, and whether its historical fantasy, an alternate timeline, or futuristic post apocalypse is hard to determine. It’s spooky and a bit weird and wildly creative.

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, a small independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Features a sapphic relationship but focuses more on world-building than romance.

Ninefox Gambit (Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance. Disgraced Captain Kel Cheris is given a second chance by allying with the undead Commander Shous Jedao, who in life never lost a battle, but also went mad and massacred his own army. Now, Cheris must decide just how far she can trust him, with her forces as well as with her sense of self.

My Heart is Human by Reese Hogan

Nine years ago, all complex technology was made illegal. This complicates life for Joel, young transgender single father, as a bionic just uploaded itself into his brain without consent. Scared of losing his daughter, Joel tries to keep the bionic secret while using it to fix his life, but things quickly get more complicated as the bionic gains more and more control of his body. A bit simplistic in writing style but makes a lot of cool parallels of bodily autonomy to Joel’s experiences as a transman.

Bonus rec: if you like the general concept of struggling for physical control over one’s body with an AI, may I also suggest the (much grittier and gory) movie Upgrade.

The Host by Stehpenie Meyer*

The Host follows Wanderer, an alien part of an invading force on Earth. Humans have been defeated and are being used as host bodies, but Wanderer's host Melanie is being difficult and refuses to fade away. Instead she fills Wanderer's mind with images of Jared, the man she loves and who's still in hiding. With Melanie's feelings bleeding into Wanderer's the two reluctantly ally to find and keep safe the man they both love. While The Host does feature Meyer's trademark romance - of which I'm not the biggest fan - the more interesting and arguably more central relationship is that between Wanderer and her human host.

Needle by Hal Clement

1950s classic. A small island in the pacific ocean and a fourteen-year-old boy have just become the center of an interstellar chase between an alien Hunter and the criminal he’s pursuing. Robert is a regular boy, but he has a very special passenger: an alien symbiont hiding inside his body. The alien became stranded on Earth as he pursued a criminal of his own species, and now they are both trapped on the same island, playing a game of cat and mouse as Robert and the Hunter struggle to find their prey before it finds them.

Malevolent by Harlan Guthrie*

Lovecraftian horror mystery. Private detective Arthur Lester wakes up in his office, his partner dead, memories fuzzy, vision gone, and the voice of a malevolent entity in his mind. Unable to see, Arthur is forced to rely on guidance from the entity as he attempts to solve the mystery of what it is and where it came from. Is this a book? No. But as someone who reads mostly audiobooks, the difference between a book and a fiction podcast is negligible, and also I love this story and its characters and want all of you to do so too.

Goddess of Filth by V. Castro

Novella. What starts as a drunken seance between friends ends with one of them chanting in Nahuatl, the language of their Aztec ancestors. Following that night, the formerly shy Fernanda has changed. While her family calls for priests, claiming her possessed by a demon, Fernanda's friends believe what has taken up residence in her is something decidedly older. A quick read featuring female rage, desire and empowerment, this is a different twist on the typical possession story.

This Alien Shore by C.S. Friedman

Space opera in which humanity found a way to faster than light travel and began establishing colonies all over the galaxy, only to belatedly realize the method of FTL caused irreversible mutations and disabilities and leaving their nascent colonies to die. Much later, many of the colonies have survived and thrived, and one has found a new method of FTL travel, allowing an interconnected space society to grow. However, Earth is on the hunt for their method and is prepared to do anything to steal it. Trapped in the middle of all this and forced on the run is young Jamisia, who is little by little coming to realize that not only might she be the very solution Earth is after, she's also not alone in her own mind and body.

Touch by Claire North*

Kepler should have died long ago, beaten to death in an alley. Instead, a switch happened as Kepler leapt into and took control of the body of the killer. Since then, Kepler has lived in body after body, having gained the ability to inhabit anyone with a touch and stay for anything from a few minutes to an entire lifetime. Kepler cares much for the host bodies, and when one of them is brutally assassinated, Kepler must find the killer, avenge the host's death, and stop it from happening again. You want a fucked up main character with fucked up morals who still genuinely cares for people? Then boy do I have the book for you!

The Midnight Bargain by C.L. Polk

Fantasy romance. Beatrice Clayborn is a sorceress, but if her family gets its way she won't remain so for long. Married women are forbidden from practicing magic, and Beatrice's father is intent on marrying her off to save them from destitution. Beatrice has a different plan: become so powerful a sorceress that she can herself save her father's business and becomes too valuable to marry off. To achieve this, she strikes a bargain with a minor spirit of fortune. In return, the spirit demands to be present in Beatrice's body as she experiences her first kiss... a kiss with a man who might jeopardize all her plans.

Pandemonium by Daryl Gregory

Del Perce's world is almost indistinguishable from ours, the only difference being the presence of possessing entities that can strike with little to no warning. When he was young, Del was possessed by one of these demons, which was eventually exorcised. But now he’s experiencing a resurgence of symptoms, a voice in his head demanding to be freed. To save himself, Del races to find out the truth behind the possessions.

The Thousand Eyes (The Serpent Gates duology) by A.K. Larkwood*

Sequel to The Unspoken Name (please read that first, I promise this duology is very worth it). These books have a lot going on: portals, flying ships, orcs, elves, creepy snake gods, possessions, cults, immortal evil mages who traumatize teens as their hobby, gay and lesbian frenemies, the works. Csorwe, born and raised in a cult and meant as a sacrifice, escapes her intended death with a mage who becomes her mentor. But he has dangerous motives of his own, and Csorwe must decide where her loyalties lie.

A Skinful of Shadows by Frances Hardinge

Young adult, historical. All her life, Makepeace's mother has been teaching her how to defend herself from the possession of ghosts, until one day her guard drops and a wild and fierce spirit slips in. When Makepeace's mother dies and she is sent to live with her father's family, this spirit might be her only defence. Because her family is harboring dark secrets, and they have plans for Makepeace... plans which do not care for her well-being. Unlike most other YA I've read in terms of vibes and plot, A Skinful of Shadows is a unique and intriguing read.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson*

Young adult fantasy. Artemisia prefers the dead to the living, and is training to become a Gray Sister, a nun who helps the souls of the deceased pass on to the afterlife rather than remain as dangerous spirits. To defend her convent, Artemisia accepts the help of a dangerous revenant, a powerful spirit which grants her great power but also could possess her the moment her guard is lowered. As evil threatens her homeland, Artemisia and the revenant must find a way to work together.

A Psalm of Storms and Silence by Roseanne A. Brown

Young adult fantasy. Sequel to A Song of Wraiths and Ruin. To save his family, Malik has made a deal with a dangerous spirit with equally dangerous demands - the death of the princess. Meanwhile, princess Karina is seeking her own power, meaning to resurrect her assassinated sister no matter what the prize. As their paths intertwine, the consequences of their pursuits keep getting higher, both for them, their nation, and the entire world.

Grey Sister (Book of the Ancestor trilogy) by Mark Lawrence

Sequel to Red Sister. Fantasy with sci-fi flavor. Nona is being raised to become a killer at the Convent of Sweet Mercy. But dangerous classes aren’t Nona's only problem: her planet is slowly dying, and her own inner demons whisper in her mind. As the sun grows weaker and ice creeps ever closer, Nona and her allies race to save themselves from extinction.

Fifth Quarter (Quarters series) by Tanya Huff*

Sequel to Sing the Four Quarters. Fifth Quarter is only loosely connected to the first book in the series so you could read it as a standalone, however I still recommend starting with Sing the Four Quarters as it is very good. Bannon and Vree are siblings and highly skilled assassins, but they are put to the test when a failed assassination finds them sharing a body, their intended victim having stolen Bannon's. Now, they must choose between remaining loyal to their Empire, or helping their supposed victim find a new body to steal - and he doesn't want just any body, he wants the royal prince.

The Nein Eyes of Lucien by Madeline Roux*

Recommended with the caveat that you're unlikely to get the full experience unless you have also watched Critical Role Campaign 2 (which is quite the time investment, but very worth it). It follows the antagonist Lucien, first owner of the body we know as Mollymauk Tealeaf, both before Lucien lost his body and after he regains it in the ultimate struggle against Mollymauk's old friends, the Mighty Nein.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

The Scratch Daughters (The Scapegracers trilogy) by H.A. Clarke

Sequel to The Scrapegracers. Sideways Pike used to be able to perform only party tricks, but in finding new friends and starting a coven, the four become powerful witches. But not everyone wants witches around. After having gotten her spectre stolen and losing her ability to perform magic, Sideways is forced to rely on Mr. Scratch, a book demon taking the place of her spectre to keep her alive. Now she must struggle to get her magic back before it’s too late.

Riding the Odds by Lynda K. Scott

Sci-fi romance. Tara Rowan is a spaceship captain with secrets - a past she wants to leave behind, and Zie, an organic symbiote which grants her greater strengths and reflexes. But when sexy Holy Knight Trace Munroe blackmails her in an attempt to rescue a missing princess, Tara's secrets are in danger of being revealed.

What Doesn't Break by Cassandra Khaw

Like The Nine Eyes of Lucien, you're unlikely to get the full experience of What Doesn't Break unless you're also a viewer of Critical Role. It follows the backstory of Laudna, undead sorceress and warlock with the ghostly presence of the necromancer who once murdered her keeping residence in her mind and tugging at her strings.

Every Day (Every Day trilogy) by David Levithan

Every day, A wakes up with a new body and a new life. A has rules on how to deal with this existence - don't get attached, don't get noticed, and don't interfere. But when A finds themself falling in love, all their established rules no longer apply. This one has also been adapted as a movie!

This Body's Not Big Enough for Both of Us by Edgar Cantero

A. and Z. Kimrean are twin siblings and private eyes - they also share the same body, calling themselves A.Z. When someone starts murdering the sons and heirs of a ruthless crime boss, it falls on A.Z. Kimrean to solve the case and find the killer before all out gang war breaks out.

A Madness of Angels (Matthew Swift series) by Kate Griffin

Two years ago, sorcerer Matthew Swift was killed. Today, he woke back up. And he isn't alone in his body... Now, he seeks vengeance not only against the one who killed him, but also against the one who brought him back.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Bone Rider by J. Fally, The Lives of Tao by Wesley Chu, What's Left of Me by Kat Zhang, Hunter of Demons by Jordan L. Hawk, Odder Still by D.N. Bryn

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naksushadows · 10 months ago

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My favorite dramas of 2023

Honorable mention: Death Games which is still in release, so I won't include it here yet.

Alchemy of Souls Light and Shadow: As it ended this year I will include one of the biggest obsessions for me in recent years, it was a sublime experience following this drama and despite some unnecessary complaints regarding Go Younjung (who was not to blame for anything and that the hate and misogyny towards a new actress was very unfair) part 2 was a good conclusion to the story, perhaps if there had been more episodes and less insistence on the memory loss plot, and more screen time for the main couple who were the more charismatic characters that supported the plot alone, could have been even better.

Moving: The best drama released this year.

Moving is a story that is not just about the power of a superhero saving the homeland, but about family ties, friendship and companionship.

The story manages to make you relate to the characters with all their anguish, joys and despite them having unusual powers, they are believable and identifiable characters.

Everything in this drama was perfect, from the script, cast, photography, CGI, soundtrack, etc.

Twinkling Watermelon: I love watching stories that focus on family relationships, and one where we have a son going back to the past and meeting his own parents in his youth would definitely be a hit.

I liked how they approached music, art and sign language in this story and how relationships built from these shared experiences between people can change someone's destiny to live life better and enjoy it even with difficulties along the way.

Some things bothered me but nothing that took away the shine of the story for me. It was exciting to follow the journey of such charismatic characters.

Daily Dose of Sunshine: This drama deserved more recognition. The way he portrayed mental health was very sensitive and human. The actors were incredible, especially Park Bo Young who delivered a believable and emotional character.

My Journey to You: The most anticipated drama for me this year did not disappoint despite the open ending.

I believe that the entire story was so incredible and well executed that the ending didn't interfere with the watching experience.

The highlight of this cdrama was the female characters, I thought that even though most of them were spies/assassins they were very diverse, each one with a motivation and past that made them neither good or bad but rather human and complex.

Till The End Of The Moon: I confess that I expected to love this one more. I don't know if I created many expectations that were broken by the dream part, which I found exhausting and broke the rhythm of the drama for me. But it was still very striking, an iconic and well-executed enemies to lovers. The main couple had a lot of chemistry and both as solo characters supported the story itself. Tantai Jin was incredible and complex👉🏻 simply the most suffering demon I've ever seen

The Glory: I had high expectations regarding this drama, which were met and I believe that waiting to watch it after releasing all the episodes was the best option, because this way it didn't end up breaking the rhythm of the story and I could appreciate the way it was conducted revenge unlike some.

It's the first time I've watched something by Song Hye Kyo and I was positively surprised, she's a great actress.

The Good Bad Mother: I love stories focused on the relationship between mother and child, because even though it is different from my reality because I live on another continent, I can still relate to some issues that are universal.

The highlight of this drama was the performances and the cast's great rapport. If the ending hadn't been so rushed and there had been about 2 more episodes, it would have closed the story perfectly.

King the Land: This was the best romcom of the year for me. I looked forward to the weekends so I could be graced by the smiling couple. It was the cliché and comfort I needed after a stressful week of work.

I loved the vibe and lightness of old dramas that King the Land brought back.

And thankfully they avoided the murder plot in the middle of the story haha

I loved seeing Yoona doing an unpretentious romcom after a heavier drama like her previous one.

Doona: I confess that I was very involved in this drama, I don't think it was perfect but there was a lot of dedication and envolviment from the main couple, they had a lot of chemistry and the melancholy and uncertainty that the story brought really impacted me.

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ladykakata · 3 months ago

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Do you think that after canon Mickey will attend some kind of therapy/eventually take medication? I've read a couple of AUs where he got diagnosed with depression but I realistically don't see it happening in canon sadly, with the whole Gallagher's don't do therapy premise

This is a very interesting question. A deleted scene shows him mentioning 'triggered' (which I thought was out of character as a word for him to use, I would have thought he would use a different phrasing even if he learned the word from reading up on mental health issues) so he's clearly been researching in the background things about mental health, likely focusing on Bipolar II and psychosis, as that's what Ian has. I do wonder if he did what I did and also got interested in various medications, since Ian's doctor explicitly mentioned the possibility of trying a few if the initial prescriptions didn't work.

If you asked me before watching the deleted scene where Ian mentions attending pilates together (much to Mickey's quiet irritation), I would have said he'd never do it. However, with the pilates scene and the very, very gradual melting into accepting some parts of West Side life in exchange for letting him be a gremlin to assert his own way of doing things ("Can I piss in the pool?" "Yeah ... *pause* ... Really?" "Yup!"), it's possible. It's POSSIBLE. But there would be a lot of caveats.

You said rightly 'Gallaghers don't do therapy'. Ian is aware his upbringing was screwed-up, but he's also still fiercely loyal to his family, he was so offended by the other couples at the gay meetup mentioning how much they hated their families. For as much as Ian loathed Frank and had conflicted feelings about his mother, his love for his family is not dimmed*. Ian is still loyal to certain family principles, and he only started taking his medication regime seriously and understanding his mania and depressive episodes are an issue when his family and Mickey hammer it into him. Without the family making the caveat, he likely would have stuck to avoiding mental health help. Mickey would only go to therapy if Ian went first (and probably only go if he were tagging along with Ian with the latter being the main focus), he would only go if the therapist had an understanding of Mickey's background, and I'd argue for a female or femme-presenting therapist as I still think he gets on better with women than men overall.

A counter to the idea of Mickey going, apart from the fact his feelings have to be dragged out kicking and screaming and the only person to get them out of him is pretty much Ian, is the fact in a deleted scene he outright was dismissive and irritated at talking out his feelings with the possibility of sock puppets with his Prison Officer.

TL;DR - It's highly unlikely he'd ever even consider going to therapy in his current state. After a few years, if Ian goes first, and if they do adopt like Ian is hoping for? It's possible. But he is never, ever going to go without Ian being first and being there, that's for damn sure. And I wouldn't see him going for depression, I'd see him more going for PTSD considering he flinches violently everytime someone touches him in his sleep and he doesn't do being startled very well either.

[* - I don't take Ian siding with Mickey over Lip in their disagreement as Ian growing away from his family at all. I think this is part of the silent agreement that exists between the two that they each deal with their respective families and the other does not interfere, something that has genuine merit when watching Mickey deal with paralysed Terry and also not really fighting back when Lip told him to butt out of the kitchen home-selling discussion, but that's going to be an entire post by itself lol]

#Gallavich #Gallavich musings #Shameless US #Ian gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #Ian x Mickey

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drsonnet · 6 months ago

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The Chilling Testimony of a U.S. Neurosurgeon Who Went to Gaza to Save Lives

Haaretz: Netta Ahituv May 9, 2024

When everyone who was able to flee from Gaza was doing so, Dr. David Hasan made the reverse journey. His story is a must-read for every Israeli

At the end of December 2023, when everyone who was able to flee from the Gaza Strip was doing so, Prof. David Hasan made the reverse journey. Hasan, a senior neurosurgeon and an esteemed researcher at Duke University in North Carolina, decided to fly to Cairo and from there to make his way to Rafah and enter Gaza.

"Until the war broke out, I was focused on advancing my career and taking care of my family," Hasan, who is 50, tells Haaretz in a video interview. "But this situation – which touched me from both sides [of the border] – overwhelmed me emotionally and pulled me in. I felt I had to do something to help."

Hasan was a member of the first medical team – consisting of 18 physicians from the United States, Canada and England – to enter the Strip after the start of the war. They arrived through Rahma Worldwide (an American humanitarian organization) and the organization Medical Aid for Palestine, under the auspices of the United Nations and the World Health Organization.

"The UN and WHO facilitated our entry and assisted with regard to the medications and surgical equipment we brought with us," Hasan says. "But they also informed us in advance that once we entered Gaza, they would have no way of providing us with protection." The doctors were asked to sign a document waiving the UN of any responsibility for their welfare, which, he says, "made the situation all the more threatening."

Their mission was to get to the European Gaza Hospital, near Khan Yunis in the southern Strip, and spend a week there performing surgery on adults and children. Then, less than two months ago, Hasan entered Gaza again on a similar mission, and saw firsthand the transformation that had taken place there since his previous visit.

"The first thing you see in Rafah," he relates, "is miles and miles of hanging fabrics – the tents of the displaced people, which are erected against the background of the ruins of buildings. When you turn onto Saladin Road, which is the main road connecting Gaza's north and south, suddenly you see an ocean of people. These are the displaced people who live there now. As you get closer to the hospital, you see more and more people, and more and more tents."

The hospital itself looked like a refugee camp, Hasan says. "I was confused, because I had never seen so many people living inside a hospital. Every corner there was occupied by a group of people. They made use of every available item – a small curtain, a staircase, a plastic chair – and turned it into their living space. Entire families huddled on squares of two meters by two meters, and ate, drank and slept there. Walking in the hospital, you had to be careful not to step on people."

On the day he entered the Gaza Strip in December, Hasan notes, he didn't see Israeli troops or hear explosions. "I thought the war was in some kind of lull. But as soon as evening fell, heavy shelling started, and I realized that there were many Israeli forces around the hospital – you just don't see them during the day. The noise of a one-ton bomb is deafening. The first time one was dropped nearby, I happened to be standing on a stool, and I fell off, because the building shook so hard. It went on like that every five or 10 minutes. I asked the local doctors what to do, and they told me that you get used to it and that I should just keep working to distract myself from the anxiety."

Where did you sleep? What did you eat?

"I slept in the hospital, ate mostly energy bars that my wife and daughter had packed for me, and drank mineral water. The water situation there worries me the most, and since returning for the first time, I have talked about water sanitation everywhere and with everyone I can. We lost many patients due to water-related infections."

Immediately upon arriving at the hospital, the physicians began operating. "In the process, we discovered that there weren't enough anesthetics, not enough equipment and not even clean water to wash our hands between operations. Sometimes there were no gloves and sometimes we lacked basic medicines. We were compelled to perform limb amputations without anesthetics and C-sections without sedatives. In order to do as much as we could, we would operate on two patients at the same time in the same operating room."

Throughout his first week there, Hasan relates, there was constant, heavy shelling. "During the night, it was not possible to rescue anyone from the ruins, both because there was no electricity and everything was dark, and also because just being outside was dangerous. So people who were wounded during the night remained where they were until morning. Many of them died from loss of blood or reached us in worse condition because they did not receive immediate treatment. Every morning around 8, a wave of wounded people arrived who had been rescued from the ruins of the night. At that point, around nine out of 10 of them could not be saved.

"The hospital has only 250 beds, so at any given moment, you have to make difficult decisions, as there were about 1,200 wounded. He can be saved, she can't, this wound requires resources that we don't have, we may be able to treat this wound. The feeling is that it would have been possible to save many of the wounded if we had more medical equipment, intensive-care beds and the possibility of hospitalizing them for further treatment."

Are there any of the wounded whom you remember in particular?

"From a medical point of view, I remember a boy of maybe 12 or 13 years old, who arrived with bleeding from his eye, from being hit by shrapnel. It was clear that he needed surgery, but there was a two-hour line for the operating room. During the wait, a main artery burst inside his brain and blood began spurting from his eye. I'd never seen anything like that before. He died, of course.

"From a humanitarian point of view, I remember a boy about 2 years old who was seriously hurt by a bomb. He arrived together with many other children who had been in the same house. The moment I saw him I knew we would not be able to save him, so I had to give the only oxygen canister that was available to another wounded child, who had a better chance of surviving. He was alone, with no one by his side as he was dying. I took a picture of him with the phone and went out to see if anyone knew his relatives. I was told that his whole family was buried under the ruins, and that he was the only one who had been pulled out. I decided that this child would not die without someone noticing and crying over him, and I realized that it would have to be me. I held him to me, I cried over him and I named him 'Jacob.' I vowed that if I have a son, I will name him 'Jacob' in his memory.

"Another case I remember is of three siblings – a 10-year-old boy, a 6-year-old girl and a baby boy of one and a half. According to what I was told, they had been in a house that was surrounded by Hamas activity. Israeli soldiers entered the house at night. In the dark, they thought the father was a Hamas operative and they killed him. The mother ran toward the father and she was killed too. The two parents lay there dead, but outside there was bombing taking place. The three children lay down on their parents until the sun came up. Not until morning did people come to take them out of the house. Someone brought them to the hospital.

"I remember that the eldest son held the little one and calmed him because he was crying, and at the same time took care of his sister, who didn't stop shaking like a leaf in a storm. They were covered with their parents' blood. We cleaned them and I brought them some toys and small dolls that my daughter had asked me to give to the children in Gaza. When I gave them the toys, I saw a small smile and they said to me, 'Thank you, Uncle David.' You could see that they were educated and polite children. I was relieved to learn that at some point a relative came and took them. I will never forget them – the thought of the shocking night they went through and the way the 10-year-old, the senior among them, suddenly became a parental figure."

David Hasan was born and raised in Kuwait to a Muslim Palestinian family, who had immigrated there from the West Bank in 1967, following the Six-Day War. It would not be the family's last war-induced emigration. The second time was in the Gulf War, in 1990, when they relocated from Kuwait to Jordan. Hasan, who had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, was accepted to premed studies in the United States and moved there alone at the age of 18.

Where did your unusual combination of names come from – a Jewish first name and an Arab surname?

"When I moved to the United States, I connected mainly with Jews and Israelis, and they helped me acclimate. They accompanied me through various crises, and I decided to change my name from Emad to David. I also had two Jewish girlfriends, one of whom I accompanied on a visit to Israel. By then, I already had an American passport, but in Israel they wouldn't let me enter and wanted to deport me on the next flight to the United States.

"This was a traumatic experience for my girlfriend, so I insisted on talking to the security manager and told him that instead of kicking me out, they should give me a prize. 'A prize? Why should I give you a prize?' he asked. I replied that thanks to me, my girlfriend had come here for the first time in her life. Jewish donors and the State of Israel pay so much money for Jews from all over the world to visit Israel, and here I was, at my expense, inviting a Jewish woman who would never have visited here if I hadn't insisted on it. He went off, muttering, 'It's only in fucking America that Palestinians go out with Jews.' After a while, I was informed that I could enter Israel. Other than that episode, I remember the visit fondly."

Hasan is married to Lauren Hasan, who worked as a trauma surgeon, and they have a 7-year-old daughter. They live near Duke, a private university in Durham, North Carolina. Hasan does clinical work, research and teaching and is considered a leading expert in the field of cerebrovascular disorders and brain-tumor surgery. He has published more than 270 scientific articles in major journals.

Hasan does not hesitate to attest to his love for Israel and Israelis, and talks about close friends in the country. He also has close ties with the Israeli NGO Physicians for Human Rights and with the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies, with both of which, together with UNICEF (the United Nations Children's Emergency Fund), he is trying to promote emergency water purification projects in Gaza. They have already received approval from Israel's Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories and a promise of funding from USAID.

Asked how he reconciles the Israeli-Palestinian dissonance in his life, he replies simply, "I distance myself from groups that label the Israelis as only one thing and the Palestinians as another. I focus only on moral actions and on ways in which I can help practically."

American universities, including Duke, have become an arena of protests over the war. How do you deal with this?

"We launched an initiative at the university that offers all students the opportunity to be active in assisting victims of the war in all kinds of ways, as they wish, on whichever side they choose. We thought this would allow people to channel their anger into action instead of protesting and arguing among themselves. So far, it seems to be working well. I have already brought in Duke students – Palestinians and Jews – to be part of the water project and work together as a team. I tell my medical students that just as doctors are expected to be blind to their patients' origin, skin color, religion or gender, their attitude toward victims of war should be the same – I suggest to them to think about human beings and not about 'sides.'"

Hasan practices in his life what he preaches to his students. He went to help the Gazans, but the Israeli hostages in the hands of Hamas haunt his thoughts, and he brings up the subject frequently during his interview with Haaretz. On his first visit to Gaza, Hasan hoped he would be able to pressure the appropriate people to talk to members of the Hamas leadership to allow him to visit captives in order to assist them medically. He was warned that even raising the subject would endanger him and the entire delegation, but he insisted. In any event, it didn't happen, of course. No one knows if the request even reached any Hamas officials. Again, in his second visit to Gaza, in March, he put out feelers about the possibility of offering the captives medical aid. Once more, to no avail.

"I walked around the hospital and looked, searched and asked everyone I could if they had seen, heard or knew anything about them [the Israeli hostages]. I also looked for people with weapons, who might be guarding some room, but I didn't see anything like that either. As someone who saw what Gaza looks like aboveground, I can only imagine how terrible the conditions are for the hostages. I assume they don't get enough food, access to a shower or medical services. I also read the testimonies about sexual assault. God knows what condition they are in. I feel pain for them and their families and wish for their release as quickly as possible."

On the last day of the first trip to Gaza, Hasan began sweating and developed a fever. Once he left the Strip, he found out that he was infected with COVID-19, although he had of course been vaccinated. On the second trip, too, he returned home with a mysterious virus. "The situation in Gaza is the perfect storm for viruses – a combination of wounds that become infected because they cannot be cleaned properly, hospitals without proper sanitation and an absence of antibiotics. Add to that water unfit for drinking and a generally appalling sanitary situation. Almost every person we operated on died a few days later, due to infection. It suddenly came to me that surgery was like a death sentence for them. At one point I asked myself what I was doing there if I couldn't save people."

And what was your conclusion?

"That I should continue to do my best. Even if I saved one person, it is still worth the effort. From Judaism I learned that whoever saves one soul, it is as though he saved an entire world. I wanted to be a part of the hope in this conflict and make a difference, even if a small one, for the people who were hurt in it and are considered 'collateral damage.'"

What did you feel when you left the first time?

"Leaving is a bittersweet moment. On the one hand, it's a relief, and on the other hand, I was heartbroken and felt guilty for leaving these people, who need me. I have the option to leave, they don't. From being faceless numbers that I read about in the news, they became for me human beings with names, stories, aspirations and dreams. My consolation is that at least they saw that there were people who cared about them, people who had come a long way and were risking themselves for them, and maybe that would give them hope. I told them that although my body was leaving Gaza, my heart was staying there with them."

In mid-March, some two and a half months after the first visit, Hasan arrived in the Gaza Strip again. This time it was through Medtronic, one of the world's largest producers of medical devices, which was shipping equipment into Gaza. "On Friday I performed a complex operation at Duke Hospital, and within hours I was on my way to Cairo, with half a million dollars worth of medical equipment," Hasan relates. "In Egypt, I was able to get another ton of diapers and baby food, and then went on to Rafah."

There was a palpable difference between the two visits, Hasan relates. To begin with, the second time, there were fewer bombs falling, and they were smaller. On the other hand, however, he encountered more hunger and a higher density of displaced people. "I saw people who had clearly lost a great deal of weight and many more cases of infectious diseases. Mothers arrived with no milk to feed their babies, they were so weak. I remember one woman in her late 20s, an engineer by profession, who told me, 'Dr. David, my baby is crying and I can't do anything. You know Israeli women, right? Maybe you can appeal to them, in the name of the solidarity of women and mothers, to get them to request that at least we can have food for our babies sent to us? Tell them that here too there are mothers with feelings and aspirations for their children.'"

On the second visit, there were fewer medical staff evident, Hasan recalls, and those who were there showed signs of extreme burnout. "They don't earn money, their children are dying at home, and in addition, every trip to the hospital and back entails risking their life or getting bad news from home. Two doctors who worked alongside me returned home after a 24-hour shift and found that their families were buried under the ruins of the house they were in. Many of them felt that they had done their part and now had to worry about the survival of their own families. Those who remained were so exhausted that they developed indifference. A wounded person would arrive, and they would say it was preferable for the person to die, because we didn't have the means for taking care of him. I will not forget taking care of a 5-year-old boy with burns all over his body, who himself told me, 'I wish I was dead. ' At some point I also started to think that it would be better like that, because to be born a weak baby in Gaza means suffering a death sentence in agony."

In addition, Hasan relates, "There was a feeling of chaos, that things were much less organized than last time, that there was no authority or hierarchy. Everyone is worried about their own survival, hunger has an effect, and all kinds of groups were taking advantage of this situation in an awful way. Patients now began arriving who had been shot by [other] Palestinians in fights over food. Imagine hungry people who haven't eaten in days and have children to feed. They will do anything to get food."

The chaos Hasan describes almost cost him his life. On the way from Cairo to Rafah, the Egyptian driver asked him to deliver a bag of sweets to a Palestinian family he knew in Gaza for the Ramadan holiday. Hasan agreed and asked the driver to tell the family to look for him at the hospital. But when he arrived to collect the medical equipment at the border crossing, he discovered that it was not one bag but three huge sacks of sweets. It was certainly not a gift for a family.

He went up to one of the guards at the border, explained the situation and asked him for his advice. The guard explained to him that Egyptian and Gazan merchants were trying to take advantage of the situation to sell things at high prices – the goods he had might fetch thousands of dollars on the black market. He suggested that Hasan leave the sweets there and promised that he and his colleagues would distribute them for free to children for the holiday.

"On the way to the hospital, my phone kept ringing," Hasan recalls. "It turns out that these were the people to whom I was supposed to deliver the sweets. That night, at the hospital, about 10 people with guns suddenly appeared and demanded the candy. They said they were members of Hamas, but later it turned out that they weren't, they just wanted to scare me. It was actually a family that had seized control of a share of the black market. They told me that they knew my name was David and that I was actually an Israeli."

Hasan. "I walked around the hospital and looked, searched and asked everyone if they had seen, heard or knew anything about the Israeli hostages." Allison Joyce/AFP

The Chilling Testimony of a U.S. Neurosurgeon Who Went to Gaza to Save Lives Haaretz Netta... | Middle East (similarworlds.com)

Detroit doctor has never seen anything worse than crisis he witnessed in Gaza

Detroit doctor has never seen anything worse than crisis he saw in Gaza (freep.com)

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onyourowndaisymae · 5 months ago

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𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 - 𝒖𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 & 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔

hello!

i'm alive. yay! it's certainly been a minute since i've posted anything substantial, and i'm here to rectify that. this post is long. very long. i talk about a lot here-- my absence, my thoughts on obey me nowadays, what i've experienced as a writer on this platform, and updates i'm making to the way this blog looks and runs.if you're interested in catching up but don't have the time or motivation to read all of this, feel free to scroll down to the closing remarks.

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ☆

so, i will say this unintentional hiatus was caused by three things: my health, my shaky relationship with the obey me franchise, and the growing difficulties of participating in fandom. i'll address all three in that order.

★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 - my health has been shaky practically all of my adult life. i'm getting better about managing it, but even now, being twenty two years old and unable to keep up with my peers is... so exhausting. on my worst days, i am stuck in bed and distracting myself from the pain. the american healthcare system is a doozy that gives me a headache, but just know that i'm working towards proper diagnoses and treatment as fast as i can. i know that pushing myself to write for the sake of a regular posting schedule is ridiculous, so i have no intentions to do that. i will roll with the punches of my shitty health and hope i don't get knock on my ass again, lol.

★ 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞 - okay. hater time. i don't really like nightbringer.

i know! i know! hold your rotten tomatoes and let me make these stocks my soapbox for just a minute while i explain! i promise i'm not being a thoughtless critic!

i think the writing for the franchise has been slowly going down in quality for awhile. i'm never going to act like this is the best writing i've ever seen in a video game, but obviously season 1 of the og game was good enough to get us all hooked. the conflicts felt real, the relationships felt earned, and the lore was really interesting. season 2 of the og game has a special place in my heart. the franchise used to be romantic! dark! horny! complex! it feels like in recent months, the game has become so sanitized that it's alienating the same userbase that gave such an odd concept a chance in the first place. season 2 opened with an aphrodesiac plotline, and now we can hardly get a kiss from our love interests. i'm not saying everything needs to be graphic smut, but come on! it's a romance game, damnit! with as many competitors solmare has in the otome market right now, i don't know why they wouldn't be focusing on dynamic and interesting romance.

nightbringer itself is. whooo. a dual-edged sword. on one hand, it turned me into a solomon simp, and clearly i can't get enough of this man. it also had some really touching character moments. asmo's arc about falling and missing how things used to be was fantastic. satan's early development and issues bonding with his brothers were handled really well. but at the same time... these characters have also struggled with flat and rushed writing in this game. satan almost exclusively is just "cat guy with a temper" now. barbatos' character, while nice to finally have romantic storylines, has been butchered for the sake of making sure every romanceable character is marketable early on. characters are saying "i love you" ENTIRELY too fast. i get that this is not the og game and things will obviously be different in this timeline, but at the very least, i expect the writers to handle this stuff with care. i'm disappointed by how one-note everything feels now.

also, while i'm up here on my soapbox, i will also say: i think the events are abysmal nowadays. fucking hell. i am disappointed every time i click on a story portion and read three lines before the screen fades out and it's over! the events used to be low-stakes, interesting ways to explore the characters, but now it's just. disappointing. i think something similar has happened to the devilgrams and the romance that used to be in them, although it's nowhere near as bad.

for all of my bitching and moaning, i still clearly like this game franchise. i'm still going to write for it. but i think it's important to discuss these failings as a community. it helps people feel less alone when their passion begins to wane for something they once loved for seemingly no reason. maybe we can prevent the series from falling apart before its bitter end. it does not make you a "bad fan" to be able to critique something you love-- it means you love it enough to know when it's not at its best.

★ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - at some point, i found i got really intimidated by posting on my own blog. i began to psych myself out with every post, every like, every thing i got excited about. "is this good enough? do i want people to see this?" it's one thing to want to put your best foot forward, but another entirely to try to make every single thing you post perfect in an ill-fated attempt to fend of criticism from yourself of others. it's why i never took up art or music to any serious degree-- why put so much effort into something that's doomed to fail?

and then came the worry about notes and reblogs and followers. fandom should never be a numbers game, and for a lot of people it isn't. but it became a legitimate worry of mine that people would be disappointed if i didn't put out something with universal appeal, and thus, i'd be disappointed myself that i didn't live up to some unspoken expectation. i wanted to start posting for a new fandom, but then i became really worried people would feel "cheated" for following me when they expected one thing and got another.

obviously, this is not a healthy mindset. i needed to take a step back.

how did i resolve this? why didn't i just quit? well, for starters, i took some time to remember why i started posting. i have been writing fanfiction all of my life, usually shared with only a singular person and obsessed about until all of the dopamine was wrung dry from it. bringing it online was a deliberate choice. at first, it was because i was desperate for content for a small fandom (collar x malice, my beloved!) and thought "if nobody's gonna post this, i will!". but then i got into obey me, a much bigger fandom. through posting, i found a larger community of people who loved this piece of media just as fervently as i did. so many people of amazing talents dedicating their time and effort into expressing their love for this hobby. as i did the same, i began to gain a small following. one of my series blew up and gained me praise from some of my absolute favorite people in the fandom-- now, they're my friends who i adore. i began to grow proud of my writing. i'd never been proud like that before. posting on tumblr has proven to me that i'm capable of stepping out of my comfort zone and take the risk to do something, even if i'll fail. that is something i am so thankful for and can never replace.

i won't pretend fandom doesn't have its faults. every time i log on, i can scroll long enough to find something that absolutely exhausts me. labors of love are, at the end of the day, still labor, and work without appreciation is demoralizing. fandom is run by passion, but when there's a drought of people willing to put themselves out there it becomes hard to invest your energy into.

i don't have a perfect solution for this. all i know is that i can also scroll long enough to find a piece of writing or art so breathtaking that it invigorates my creative spirit. or i'll check my notifications and find a comment or reblog that absolutely makes my day. and isn't that worth sticking around a bit longer?

in the future, i'll try to be better about announcing my breaks and also just... pacing myself better. sometimes it'll be a bit until you hear from me. i hope that's okay. know i'll never log off for good without an explanation. i'd like to keep posting my silly little stories for a long time.

☆ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆

jesus. that previous section was waaaaay too long. okay. time to lock in.

★ i have a new theme! i used to have a sort of vague space-y theme, but i'm committing to the stars. do you like them? i hope so :3

★ i'm gonna get a bit weirder with the content. part of what has inspired me to keep writing is people coming up with the most off-the-wall, random, interesting ideas that i come back to consistently. that will include some dark content and the themes surrounding it like violence, horror, etc. things here will ALWAYS be tagged as thoroughly as i can. if you're not interested in reading that, no worries! hopefully something else i've written will catch your eye. (and obviously, minors, do not interact with this content. you shouldn't be in here-- my "byf" page has indicated this page is 18+ since the beginning).

★ as a general rule, i've decided that i'm no longer going to take requests. i love the enthusiasm and hearing people's ideas, but ultimately, i never end up doing them. instead, my ask box is always open for post suggestions, conversations, etc. i just don't want the sort of obligation that requests come with hanging out in the background anymore. this is, however, subject to change for special events, like that trick or treat event i did in the past and the fics for gaza event i'm doing currently, so stay tuned!

★ ... despite my in-depth obey me ramblings above, this is a multi-fandom page, lol. i will forever and always give my flowers to collar x malice. i am interested in posting occasional fics here for other fandoms in the general otome genre, so keep an eye out for those.

★ the above rule has been broken by my beloved, twisted wonderland. remember above where i mentioned wanting to post about a new fandom? yeah, it's this one. it became too much of an obsession. the new blog is centered around making night raven college an actual college, as well as just other twst content as well. the username is @daisystwistedgarden. give it a follow if you like that content! i probably won't discuss it much here, as i want the writing to stand on its own, but the pages have very similar layouts. that's me on a sideblog, don't worry :)

★ the masterlists are getting an entire overhaul and will now be organized by character. i procrastinated the hell out of these-- make overhauling the masterlists reason 3.5 for the hiatus. i will queue those up to post overnight sometime this week, so expect those sometime soon.

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 + 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ☆

if you're here, i want to say thank you. this blog, which originally started on a whim, has really done a lot for me. i love writing (even if i hate all the boring administrative parts of running a blog) and the fact that you people spare the time to read my silly little posts is insane to me. while i was gone, we hit the 2k follower mark (and the 2.1k follower mark, too!) and i'm just. baffled. thank you.

i'm back, i'm ready to write, and i'm excited to see where this takes me. give me a couple of days to fully replace all the old posts with new ones and make everything look right, but after that, i'll be posting again like normal. if you're interested in my twisted wonderland content, follow @daisystwistedgarden, and if you want to support my writing and gaza at the same time, consider donating to my "sponsor a WIP" page here.

once again, thank you for reading, for liking, for reblogging, for following, for hanging out in my ask box-- all of it. it means the world to me that i get to enjoy this slice of the internet with such wonderful people.

talk soon. (for real this time). xx

#in summary: I'M BACK BITCH #that feels good to say #sorry in advance i'm here to be annoying again #this is my blog. i get to be the menace here #blog update #blog updates #blog housekeeping #i don't remember my own damn tagging system. oh well. that's getting overhauled too

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nyaagolor · 4 months ago

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Just finished Higurashi Arc 7 (Minagoroshi) and imma be honest with yall, I was not really vibing with the plot twist until i started thinking about it less as something to take at face value and more something to engage with as an extended metaphor. Higurashi as a complete work has four major thematic categories to me (agency, community, delusion, and fate) and Himinizawa Syndrome feels more narratively satisfying as an interconnection of those themes than as a home-stretch scifi twist (hear me out)

Ryukishi has an interview where he talks about his reasoning behind the plot twist, explaining that he wanted the audience to challenge their implicit biases around the ideas of mental illness and agency-- namely "if someone commits murder under the act of a drug, why are they not culpable when someone who does the same under the effects of a severe mental illness IS culpable?". From a metatextual standpoint, this serves as a challenge to the audience, but I think this framing has implications for the themes as well. Minagoroshi spends a lot of time focusing on the interaction between the themes we've been introduced to throughout the series, namely in the sense that if enough people believe something, it becomes reality. This is used in the context of Rika's miracle, the ostracism of Satoko by the villagers, and the delusions experienced by the "infected" themselves. It's not about the actual reality of the situation-- if a delusion is such a strongly held belief to an individual or community that it inspires action, that belief "becomes" real, and this is the part I think applies to Himinizawa Syndrome and Takano

The way that Takano talks about Himinizawa Syndrome and the way that people are encouraged to act based on her words is a pretty good mirror of the symptoms of the "disease" itself. She self isolates, operating entirely based on her own skewed view of the world and the people around her while engaging in conspiratorial thinking and retroactive explanation. Keiichi, Rena, Shion, and Satoko all develop Himinizawa Syndrome, but we see throughout the arcs how many people and situations act as instigators to exacerbate preexisting traumas and mental health conditions. The disease also only starts progressing when they're in Himinizawa, not "far from their queen" like Takano suggests. The fact that the nature of the delusions-- from their actual content to their frequency and the lines of the thinking the characters go down-- are extremely specific and more associated with the individual traumas and illness we know them to have further pushes me in that direction. Despite Takano insisting that lymph node itchiness is a symptom of Himinizawa Syndrome, the only people who experience it are those who knew about it beforehand. We have the benefit of knowing the loops, but Takano's "explanations" of symptoms feel more like working backwards from observable but likely unconnected events rather than something based on reality, which is exactly the kind of rationale that Rena was experiencing in the height of her own delusions

While I do think that Himinizawa is textually supposed to be an actual Thing, it makes more sense to me to view it as Takano's own false belief, made into a tangible reality because she believed in it enough to convince others of the same. We never see the "tragedy" that's supposed to happen after Rika's death, only that people acted because they believed it was coming. This-- the whole "a shared delusion becomes reality and thus fate itself" thing-- feels very thematically satisfying as a sort of final conflict for the series. Takano, the big bad villain, is stuck in a self fulfilling prophecy in a way, taking agency in such a way that she falls victim to her own actions. She believed so strongly in a "curse" that it became real, and ironically enough under her own definition, she is the one suffering from this "disease" she created the most

(Also Ryukishi loves tackling political issues so the idea that the local rural Japanese government of 1983 would misidentify and mistreat the mental illnesses of some teenagers isn't that out of left field to me)

#higurashi #spoilers #mod vex #... do I have an analysis tag??? I guess I do now #analysis #textpost #oooo you wanna DM me about Higurashi soooo baddddd ooooooo

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ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

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No Love Left To Lose // Jake Seresin

Summary: Amilia Fisher left America & Took Jakes heart with her. Now he’s on a mission to get it back along with the love of his life.

Warnings: ANGST. Mentions of depression. Mental health issues, Jake Seresin x OC. Australian OC ( <- warning in & of itself) Tiny little bit of smut. 18+

Word Count: 5.4k

Author Note: If you haven’t giving this series a read—please do, I beg of you. It gives so much more depth to the Series Terms Of Endearment. This is a spin off series to Terms of Endearment. Masterlist

“What do you mean Jakes in Australia?” Chelsea frowned as she slapped her husband's chest to gain his attention. The pair were sound asleep in their bed before Chelsea's phone had rung out into the darkness of the night.

“I mean he’s here, he showed up at my work Chels.” Amilia sighed as she flopped onto her back onto her bed. A world away from her sister, an entire time zone and country apart. “He’s here in Australia and I don’t know what to do.” A silence fell between the two sisters as Chelsea placed her phone on loudspeaker.

“Say it one more time, I just work up—“ It was for Payback's sake as he rolled over to draw his wife in closer against his chest. Still half asleep and half naked wondering why his blessing of a wife had slapped him awake:

“Jake flew to fucking Australia! What are you not getting! What do I do with him!”

“Woah—!” Reuben sat up as he frowned and looked at the phone as if Amilia was going to come bursting out of the screen in a flurry. “Jakes in Austin?” Jake Seresin had been grounded until he could sort his shit out. It was a spectacle really—Mr best if the best hadnt been able to focus for weeks. He’d never been grounded before. It was a low blow to accept but he knew he needed his wings clipped. He wasn’t focused. He wasn’t trying. He wasn’t able to keep his mind on the task at hand because all he could think about was Amilia.

Fucking Amilia Fisher and all that she was.

Jake had told no one of his rather ostentatious plan to fly to the land down under on a mission of his own. He told no one except for his niece. Little Odette Bradshaw, she kept her lips sealed tight about the not so carefully thought out plan.

“Well he clearly got lost on his way out to the back of bloody bum fuck Reuben because he’s here!” As the tears in Amilias eyes welled over and spilled down her cheeks she took a deep breath in to try and compose herself. It was too late. She was a goner. “WHO TOLD HIM TO COME HERE!?”

“I don’t think anyone did hun—“ Chelsea looked at her husband with worry woven into the lines on her face. Payback mimicked his wife’s worry as he rolled over to reach out for his own phone, texting the group to see what the hell was going on.

Payback: “Hangman’s in Australia, not Austin—“

“What are you yelling about?” There was no knock, no heads up, no warning to let Amilia know her flatmate was entering her room. Inez just did as she pleased. There wasn’t anything she could see that would surprise her anymore and she knew for certain Amilia wasn’t bringing home any guys anytime soon. It felt like she’d only just been able to get the poor girl off the couch. “I was asleep—“

“Chelsea I gotta go.” Amilia sighed as she said goodbye to her sister and looked to Inez who just stood there in her pajamas in the middle of the room in the middle of the damn day. “I need to be checked into a mental health facility.”

“What’s wrong?” Inez Bayliss had two personalities, she was a lover and a fighter. If you were ever lucky enough to be loved by Inez then you knew you had someone on your side, always. “What’s going on?”

“Jake showed up at work.” Amilia looked up at the ceiling as she laid flat on her back sprawled on her half made bed. “He’s here Nez—he’s here in Port.” The relisation hit Inez hard as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. She’d only just worked up, she had three night shifts in a row and knew she’d be pulling overtime due to staff shortages. The duo had tagged teamed at the front door that same morning. Inez was on her way in from finishing and Amilia was on her way out for her six am class. “He’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oz I say this with all the love in my heart yeah?” Inez straddled her flatmate's waist and placed her hands on her shoulders, she looked Amilia dead in the eyes after months of worrying and helping Amilia slowly and painstakingly put herself back together again. “He is not the love of your life! He’s literally just a guy! Hit him with your car!”

“I can’t hit him with my car Inez—“ Amilia sighed as she cupped her hands over her face as her flatmate dismounted. “He wants to talk so I said he could come over while you were at work.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought this guy was the guy who up and got married!” It was a blinding fact Inez couldn’t move past. Amilia had been doing okay for someone who’d just broken up with their boyfriend of two years and moved halfway across the world. But when she heard the news that Jake Seresin had up and got hitched? She fell into a bottomless pit of depression and utter despair she couldn’t claw her way out of.

What had been so wrong with her that Jake never hinted at the idea he wanted more—and what had been so right about this other woman that made him want to marry her so quickly all the while Amilia was still trying to paper-masha herself back together post Jake.

Amilia Fisher didn’t move from the lounge for three consecutive days. She didn’t change out of her pajamas, she didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. All she did was watch old reruns of lost and block people out of her life. Starting with Jake and ending with you. Inez had come home from visiting her parents in Foster to find her flatmate rotting away with a broken heart. Dehydrated and the shell of her former self.

“Apparently he got annulled—“ Amilia finally found it inside herself to sit up. “He wants to talk about everything, thought if I just let him say what he needs to say then he can leave and I can move on with my life and let go.”

“Oz—I love you, so much.” Inez held a hand over her heart as she looked at Amilia with concern woven into the lines on her face. “But that man ruined you, he broke you in ways I’ve never seen a woman broken before.” She wasn’t wrong, Jake had really done a number on poor Amilia. “Are you really gonna let the guy who broke your heart so badly back in the minute he shows up?”

Jake had been Amilias best friend, he was her light, her everything. She really did believe she’d found her soulmate. After everything they’d been through, after all the memories they created and the laughter they shared she thought she’d found her person. But when the effort slowly faded and suddenly it was just Amilia left holding the relationship together, it was just easier to let go than hold on.

“No—no I’m not.”

“Good!” Inez couldn’t have been more delighted if she tried as she got of Amilias bed. She had a disdain for Jake Seresin the American Aviator she’d never had the displeasure of meeting.“He’s not worth your time, your energy, your love, your empathy Amilia.”

“He was, once.” Was all Amilia managed to reply before she broke, the dam had cracked and tears spilled from her lash line as she sobbed into the palms of her hands. “I love him so much It fucking hurts.” There's a hell at the bottom of the well where Amilia drowns to herself and the drugs won't help. She swims in her troubles but she’s not Michael Phelps. She drowned in the emotions she can’t bring herself to regulate.

“Amilia you aren’t gonna wanna hear this babe because it’s kinda harsh and you’re a little bitch of an emotional wreck—“ Inez was a no bullshit friend. She said it like it was and never stopped herself from speaking the truth no matter how badly someone could get hurt. She wasn’t a victim in any sense of the word and she was never able to play one. She was a fiercely protective friend, the kind Amilia needed when she was so broken and lost. “But he was meant to hurt you.” Inez sighed as she sat back on her flatmate's bed. “And you were always supposed to sit in your pain for a while. Not because you deserved it or as a form of punishment or anything—but because it was the only way that you could shake that old version of you that actually thought the bare minimum could ever be considered effort.”

“Nez—“

“Nah bitch let me finish.” Inez shook her head as Amilia sat up, her shoulders couldn’t have been more slouched.

“You needed this pain to wake you the fuck up. Because if you didn’t? You’d never grow and become the person that you’re supposed to be and that person is the person who’s going to get everything they’ve ever asked for their entire life.”

Amilia knew Inez didn’t have an awful lot of people in her life that she could call if she was ever in a bad situation. But regardless, Amilia knew that if she ever needed someone—Inez would be there without question and without hesitation. So as Amilia wiped her tears she asked Inez something she’d always wondered herself.

“Why don’t you let people see the good in you Nez?” Inez grew up in a not so great household. She had an older brother in prison and a younger sister in juvenile detention. Her mother was a high functioning alcoholic and her father was a narcissist. But regardless she loved them, but growing up in that environment makes you build strong walls.

“Because when people see good they expect good.” Inez replied with a tight lipped smile. “And I don’t know about you Oz but I don’t wanna have to live up to anyone’s expectations.” The conversation died after that, Inez saw it as her time to leave. She stood with a smile and turned back to Amilia when she made it to the doorway. “Don’t let that cunt back into your life.” She pointed. “You give him hell.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

After Inez left later that same afternoon for her shift, Amilia found herself perched at the small round dining table doing up her clients' programs for the next day. She only had a handful to do—which she was pretty thankful for. She couldn’t keep her mind straight to save her soul.

Just as she was settling into a rhythm, Amilias phone dinged beside her. She couldn’t help but to stare at the contact she hadn’t seen pop up on her loco screen for a few months now. She’d changed it before she eventually ended up blocking it and evidently un blocking earlier in the day.

Jake: “I’m out the front.”

Jake: “At least I think I am.”

Immediate regret sets in the second Amilia knows Jakes at the gate. But regardless she stands and pads out of the house and into the front courtyard. Her heart sinks into her stomach when she sees Jake standing at the front gate with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp.

“Hangman—“ She sends him a tight lipped smile that’s clearly forced. Jake knows because Amilia has a toothy grin that’s the light of his entire life. If she was really happy to see him she would have shown her true smile. “You look, good.” She didn’t know what else to say but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew a simple hello could have sufficed.

Jake waited and watched as Amilia unlocked and opened the gate for him. She stepped aside to let him by and quickly closed and locked it behind him. She had a bad habit of leaving the damn thing unlocked.

“These are for you.” Jake gestured to the flowers in his hand before holding them out for Amilia to take. “They kinda reminded me of the ones you got me for my birthday.” Amilia remembered that day well. She’d gotten Jake flowers so he wouldn’t end up another statistic—she didn’t want his only flowers to be the ones he received to be the ones at his funeral. But as she stared down at the bouquet that now resided in her hand, she didn’t really give a shit if Jake ever received flowers again.

“Sweet.” Amilia didn’t know what to say, this felt wrong, awkward—like she was inviting someone she didn’t know into her home. Her safe space. “Uh—come in. You want a coffee? Tea?” She asked nervously, Jake had once been someone she shared her thoughts and feelings with. Someone she told her biggest secrets and opened up to. Now he was just a memory. A reminder of all the things that were wrong with Amilia Fisher.

“You got something a little stronger?” Jake chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Amilia was the only woman who’d ever made him feel weak in the fucking knees. Now more so than ever before.

“How about gin?” Gin was Amilias hard liquid of choice. It was her spirit. Some people liked vodka, some like whiskey—but Amilias was gin. Jake nodded along as he followed Amilia into her humble abode. “I could use a drink—“

“Gin sounds great.” Jake felt his feet freeze in the little entryway of Amilias home, in all the time he’d known her he’d never been to her home. It was always his country and his home and his friends' houses. Now the tables had turned and suddenly Jake wasn’t the same overly confident, broad shouldered man he claimed to always be. “Woah, this feels—weird.”

“Don’t mind the mess, Inez is a bit of a lounge lizard when she’s on night shifts.” Amilia sighed softly as she made her way into the living room still holding the flowers Jake had given her to fix up a few of the throw pillows and lounge blankets. The same pillows and blankets she’d cried on for days on end when she’d heard of Jake's holy matrimony. “Make yourself at home and I’ll get you that gin.”

Jake looked around tentatively, he took notice especially to the photo frames that littered the top of the book nook. There were photos of Amilias life pre her American soul searching trip. Jake could tell by the way her hair looked a little lighter and a hell of a lot shorter than what he’d known it to be. But then there were photos post Jake too. He saw one of you and Rooster at the Hard Deck–standing on top of the bar doing shoeys. He saw one of You and Amilia with little Odette sitting between you in the park, ice-cream in hand melting down her little digits. There was even one of Amilia with Bob's brother Rhett. The two had a love-hate relationship but they were pretty content with one another's presence in each other's lives.

But something that really crushed Jake was that in all the photos that timestamped Amilia, he was nowhere to be seen. He was erased from her life with such ease it physically hurt his heart as it raised in his chest.

“So–” Amilia made her presence known as she handed Jake his drink. He took it with a soft smile that faded within seconds. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The scathing phone call he’d received a few hours prior from you on the opposite side of the world should have told him that much. But standing in the bitter silence of Amilias living room it solidified the fact. “What's her name?”

“Sorry?” Jake asked as he watched Amilia sit. She nursed her glass in both her hands as she pressed her knees together.

“Your ex-wife.” God it sounded pathetic coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't not ask. Amilia needed to know for her own sanity what the woman's name was that was every bit better than her. “What's her name?” Jake didn't answer straight away, he took a swing of the clear liquid that burned as it went down but felt warm and inviting at the same time.

“Ellie–” There was a time when Amilia liked the name Ellie, it was delicate and carried an innocence about it. Ellie was a name that felt light and endearing– a term of endearment all on its own in some cases. But now she couldn't stand it.

“Pretty name.”

“I didn't come here to talk about her.” Jake replied sharply as he sat beside Amilia, she shuffled away to put a little space between the two of them and Jake had to refrain from reaching out to slide her back towards him. “I came here to see you, to tell you I messed us up, to say–”

“Don't–” Amilia willed Jake not to say what she knew he was going to say as she looked anywhere but at him. Jake didn't listen, he ventured on.

“To say I love you, wholeheartedly.” Jake, with all his good graces and his ability to affect Amilia in so many ways–reached out to turn her chin his way. He made her look him in the eye when he told her he loved her because he’d never needed her to hear something so desperately before in his life. “I love you, I never stopped loving you.” Amilia could have looked into Jake's emerald green eyes for all eternity if she allowed herself. But she couldn't, she wouldn't let him hurt her again. She deserved so much better than he could give her.

“Well I don't love you.” It was the biggest lie she ever told. Ever. “So I guess you came all this way for nothing.” Amilia finished her drink as she kept eye contact with Jake who just sat there like she’d shot him with an arrow through the heart. “I'm better off without you in my life, I know that now and whatever we were, whatever you made me believe we were or whatever bullshit you're playing now, it won’t work because I know I'm better off without you.”

“I know you don't mean that.” It could very well have been denial or it could have been the bravado kindly sponsored by the small amount of liquor, But Jake reached out to grab Amilias wrist as she stood. “Don't lie to me about what we were, what we are.” Jake had never seen the look Amilia gave him before. She was dumbfounded, completely and utterly taken aback by what Jake had just said as he stood to meet her. “Amilia, please–”

“YOU GOT MARRIED!? Are you dying of dementia!?” Amilia snapped as she shoved at Jake's chest and walked out of the living room. Empty glass in hand as he followed quickly behind her. “God you made it blatantly obvious that I wasn't enough for you and as if that wasnt hard enough to take on the fucking chin YOU GOT MARRIED!”

“I DIDN'T MEAN TO!!” Amilia snatched the empty glass from Jake's hand as he followed her into the kitchen. She needed to keep her hands busy so she didn’t punch the love of her life in his perfect face. “It all happened so fast and I got caught up and it just–” There wasn’t an excuse under the sun that Jake could have given to make the situation any better.

“For fucks sake Seresin how do you not mean to get married, its a commitment!” Amilia growled as she placed the two empty glasses of gin in the sink before she turned around. “It's a lifelong commitment to someone you love! Someone you're meant to cherish that you’re gonna be there no matter what and I clearly wasn't that person for you no matter how desperately I wanted to be!”

In her kitchen Amilia let everything that she’d been bottling up for months out. She’d gone no contact with Jake one week after she’d reached out to wish him all the best with his marriage. It hurt less to block him from her life than it did to pretend she was happy for him. Because she couldn't have been further from happy for him.

“It should have been you though–” Jake sighed as he softened his gaze and took a tentative step closer to where Amilia stood against the kitchen bench. “It was always supposed to be you Amilia and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out.” Jake tried to bite his tongue, he tried to be the bigger person. But he had a bone to pick. “But you left me, Oz–you left me.” Amilia couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You left me to come back here and yeah, I fucked up and I regret everything but you arent innocent in all this!”

“I HAD NO FUCKING CHOICE TO LEAVE YOU! BECAUSE YOU WOULDNT COME WITH ME!” Amilia spat as she clenched her jaw as tight as she could and lunged forward. Jake caught her wrist in his hands before she could beat them against his chest in a flurry of emotion. She still tried to though. “Don't you dare act like I didn't fight for you because I did–so hard and for a long time Jake so please, forgive me if that now that were over I'm exhausted and I’m done with your bullshit lies and your half hearted efforts and your inability to understand that you broke me!”

Amilia broke free of Jake's grasp on her and he felt like his entire world was collapsing around him for the second time. You told Jake to his face he was a fool—a damn fool for letting the love of his life leave the way she did. Standing in Amilias kitchen with the bright fluorescent light shining down on him, illuminating all his flaws, Jake had never felt more like that fool. You were right. You were always fucking right and he hated that.

“What do I have to do for you to believe that I'm sorry?” Jake pleaded, he was starting to lose control of all that was keeping him grounded. He couldn't leave it like this, he couldn't go back to San Diego without the love of his life and he couldn't go back to work when all he could think about was Amilia and her infectious laugh. Amilia with her fiery attitude and her beautiful smile that could like up the darkest corner of hell. Jake couldn’t eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't think and he was convinced that hell would freeze over before he gave up on Amilia. “Tell me, right here right now what I need to do and I'll do it, I'll do anything Oz.”

But there was nothing Jake could do.

“I don't want you to do anything—“ Amilias voice had softened as tears began to stream freely down her cheeks. “I don't wanna fix what's broken, I just need you to leave–please.” Then came the silence. The deafening and oh so thick silence choked whatever Jake had left to say right from his throat. This wasn't supposed to end like this. “Before you do go through I want you to know that I'm never going to put the same energy into someone like I did for you.” Amilia smirked through her tears as she chuckled to herself for a moment. She felt pathetic. “I spent countless hours during some pretty lonely nights thinking about what I could have done to make myself better for you.” Jake couldn’t breathe, he stepped forward and Amilia didn't budge. She held her ground and puffed her chest and looked up at Jake as he tilted his chin down. “I wanted to show you how much I cared about you and the love I had for you.” The gap was barely existent. “Those same fucking nights slowly started turning into darkness, I started overthinking and suddenly I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough for you and thats why, after two years of giving you every ounce of me that I could, you married some woman called Ellie that I know nothing about yet everything I need.”

“I never stopped loving you Amilia–” Jake barely spoke above a whisper as he reached out to hold Amilias tear stained cheeks in the palms of his hands. “I didn't, I promise, please–I should have tried harder, I should have shown you how much I loved you more. Everyday, because I did and I do.” All Amilia did was close her eyes and shake her head in the gentle hands of the man she loved half to death.

“All you ever did was show me how easy it was to forget about me Jake–“

“That’s not true and you know it.” Jake's grip tightened as Amilia sobbed more violently in his grasp. “That’s not true, I love you, I love you so much.” She wanted to hear those words for so long that now she was hearing them they sounded fake and unrealistic. Jake didn’t love Amilia. He couldn’t. No one could and if anything Jake had proven that.

“You replaced me like nothing ever happened, like I never existed when all I ever wanted was for you to feel like you mattered, and that your existence has an impact.”

“Amilia—“

“It’s so abundantly clear that you didn’t appreciate me enough and because of that you have fucking changed me Seresin! You changed me forever! I will never love someone like I fucking love you and I need you to go—“

“No.” Jake shook his head as tears spilled down his own cheeks. He couldn’t let go. “I’m not leaving.” If tensions weren’t already high they were now. “I’m in love with you Amilia and I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not asking you, I'm telling you.” Amilia whaled as Jake held her close. “Get out of my house! Get out of my life!” She was losing the last tiny bit of strength and will power she had left. “Leave me alone to put myself back together!”

“You said you love me.” And Jake saying that broke the camel's back. Amilia had no more willpower left, she had nothing left to say as her walls crumbled from steel beams she hadn’t bolted down yet.

“I do! I do love you!” Amilia explained before she crashed her lips against Jakes in a fit of anger. “But I hate you more.” She made sure to say before her arms wrapped around Jake's neck as he leaned in and kissed her back just as feverish. The bench was right there—right behind the small of Amilias back as the two of them stumbled around just trying to feel one another for the first time in over nine months. “I missed you so much—“

“I missed you so bad.” Jake replied as he followed Amilias lead. He knew that he’d follow her anywhere now if she’d asked him to. He’d walk on all fours and bend over backwards to her every whim. Amilia was the love of Jake's life. His only love. “I love you.”

“Say it again.” Amilia begged as she pulled Jake down on top of her as they fell to the lounge. Neither one of them could blame this heated exchange on the alcohol they’d consumed. It wasn’t nearly enough. “Jake—“

“You’re the love of my life.” It was wishful thinking, but as Jake ground his hips down against Amilias and kissed her with so much love and passion, he willed her to say it back. “Tell me you love me too.”

Amilia didn’t say a word as she worked to unbuckle the button that kept Jake's jeans snug around his hips. She used her tongue as a distraction as she unzipped the zipper and manoeuvred her hand inside his pants, palming him off slowly as he let soft whimpers escape into Amilias mouth.

She couldn’t say it back. Amilia should've never let Jake enter her front door.

“Amilia say it baby—“ Jake pleaded as he removed her shirt—noticing the tears beginning to well in her eyes. It’s crazy when you're loveswept, you'd do anything for the one you love.

“Shut up and fuck me Seresin before I change my bloody mind.” Anytime that Jake needed Amilia she was there. It was like he was her favorite drug. The only problem was that she was using Jake in a different way than he was using her. But now that she knew that it wasn’t meant to be, she had to be strong for herself and wean herself off of him.

“Okay—“ Jake conceded. It was a batter he would have to fight another day. For now though he’d do anything Amilia Fisher asked of him. “Where’s your room?” He asked through rash kisses and hips that rutted against one another.

“Upstairs—“ Amilia moaned as Jake trailed hot, needy and lustful kisses down your supple neck. Jake was the knight in shining armor in Amilias movie. He used to put his lips on hers and love the aftertaste but now? He was a ghost. He could call her name and Amilia would look right through him.

She was the reason Jake was all alone and masturbated.

“Okay.” Jake groaned as he picked Amilia up. She was quick to attach her lips back to his as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Clinging to her ex like he was her life support. “I’ve got you—“ Jake had been trying to fix his pride but that shit was broken. He tried to lie to everyone around him. He’d lie and say he was fine, that he was okay, that he wasn’t just barely getting through each day.

He’d lie and pretend that he wasn’t at an all time low.

But he was. So was Amilia—they were both insufferable to all those around them because they didn’t have each other. And couldn’t admit their own flaws, mistakes, failures. But as articles of clothing disappeared and moans echoed off the walls of Amilia bedroom, all those faults disappeared for a while. They turned to dust and became distant memories as Jake and Amilia remembered what it was like to be together.

“This doesn’t me anything—“ Amilia whispered as she rode Jake into the night. His hands gripped at her hips and palmed at his call sign tattooed deep into Amilias skin. “Not a thing.”

“Just sex.” Jake groaned as he felt his high approaching. “Means nothing—Ohh fuck!” His head flew back against the pillows that smelt like Amilia. Her hair, laced with raspberries and juniper.

“I’m close, please—“ Amilia begged. She didn’t need to be loved by Jake Seresin. She wanted to be though, will all her being. With fire in her lungs she couldn’t bite the devil on her tongue. “I don't need to be loved by you!”

“But you are.” Jake fucked deep into Amilia as he pressed his heels into her mattress and pulled her forward. “You are loved by me—cum.” With his hands on her waist, she knew she’d never be replaced again. Fire ripped through Amilia, her orgasm set her nerves alight. It was like a rocket through her chest, Jake Seresin made her think that the whole world was about to end.

“Ohhh god yess—!” She didn’t know where the night was going, but Jake knew that Amilia and him had sparked something as he came deep inside her fluttering core. “Jake—“

“I’m here, I’m right here.” There were so many things that Amilia was afraid of, but right now she wasn’t scared of anything. It was ten thirty at night and for the first time in a long time she could feel Jakes strong and loving arms around her.

She would let them drown her in memories of the past.

“This doesn’t mean we’re something Seresin.” Amilia was sure to remind Jake as she let herself fall to his side. Immediately Jake pulled her close. “But you can stay, if you want.”

“I wasn’t hoping you’d say that.” Jake was quick to kiss Amilias forehead as she hummed at his affection.

“Why’s that?” There was a moment where Jake thought he shouldn’t say, but he settled on pure honesty. Hoping that it would win him the love of his life back sooner rather than later.

“Because I never did booked that hotel.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56 @seresinsaint @topguncortez @mandylove1000

#terms of endearment // jake seresin #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman x oc #top gun hangman #top gun fic

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dufferpuffer · 1 month ago

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~~ Looking at Lycanthropy ~~

Part 6: Pottermore and More

How 'canon' Pottermore (and other information outside the books) is differs between person-to-person. There's some additions I love, and some I wish I could remove from my memory... My view: if it doesn't conflict with the books and makes sense (or is simply pleasing) - then it may as well be considered canon... ...but there is still a meaningful distinction to be made for information from the story itself vs. additions made later or by other people. (Only new information and information I think is put in an interesting way.)

Looking at Lycanthropy (all parts)

Words: Approx. 12000 i think...?

Physical Symptoms (What they feel; what they do; what happens) Perceived Effects (What they look like to others; health focused) Social Perception (What people think; social situation) Self Perception (What the werewolf thinks about themselves) Potion/Other Treatment Information

--- --- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander Bloomsbury paperback – pg 92; Scholastic hardcover – pg 83

WEREWOLF M.O.M. Classification: XXXXX16 The werewolf is found worldwide, though it is believed to have originated in northern Europe. Humans turn into werewolves only when bitten. There is no known cure, though recent developments in potion-making have to a great extent alleviated the worst symptoms. Once a month, at the full moon, the otherwise sane and normal wizard or Muggle afflicted transforms into a murderous beast. Almost uniquely among fantastic creatures, the werewolf actively seeks humans in preference to any other kind of prey. 16 This classification refers, of course, to the werewolf in its transformed state. When there is no full moon, the werewolf is as harmless as any other human. For a heartrending account of one wizard's battle with lycanthropy, see the classic Hairy Snout, Human Heart by an anonymous author (Whizz Hard Books, 1975) Ministry of Magic (M.O.M.) Classifications Bloomsbury paperback – pg xxxvi; Scholastic hardcover – pg xxxv XXXXX = Known wizard killer/impossible to train or domesticate. XXXX = Dangerous/requires specialist knowledge/skilled skilled wizard may handle. XXX = Competent wizard should cope. XX = Harmless/may be domesticated X = Boring.

((This puts the transformed werewolf at the same threat level as (Bloomsbury paperback): the Acromantula, the Basilisk, Chimaera, Dragons, Horned Serpent, Lethifold, Manticore, Nundu (“This African beast is arguably the most dangerous in the world.”), Quintaped, Wampus Cat.))

- XXXXX classification doesn't mean they're as dangerous as a Nundu, or as strong as a Dragon – but they aren't to be underestimated. You aren't making friends via a hunk of steak and a bellyrub.

This rating suggests the Marauders may be some of the first people to discover that being an Animagi makes a werewolf passive - because surely, by technicality if anything, if that fact were well known then the M.O.M. Rating would be reduced to a XXXX? Because Wizards with certain skills CAN handle them: Animagi.

- Northern Europe... the image that brings to my mind are long winter nights, animals hibernating, 20hrs without sun... would that mean a werewolf on a winter Full Moon would spend that entire night transformed? Did Lycanthropy perhaps start as a sort of survival strategy? When food is low in the long, cold winters – a human gets a burst of magical energy to search for meat – like poor Buckbeak...? Maybe a starving werewolf is more likely to kill and eat its human prey, so in the winter they have more chance for food. In summer, when they don't need as much food, they spread the affliction.

- Werewolves seek humans in preference to other prey. Newt confirms Remus is a liar telling kids he is safe around non-humans... and makes it more confusing that skinny Sirius was enough to make him run away, when there was five defenseless humans to bite. Either he had some clarity-of-mind from taking most of his weeks Wolfsbane... or werewolves are less one-minded than people give them credit for, because that wasn't exactly XXXXX behaviour.

- Newt is sympathetic to the plight of werewolves – however, if he thinks Wolfsbane has 'to a great extent alleviated the worst symptoms.' then he is mistaken. It alleviates the symptoms that scare others most but the werewolf still suffers all the most grotesque and debilitating symptoms. (Love that he is continuing to make revisions of the book – Wolfsbane was only invented 1980ish or later.) - Newt is in the minority for thinking people afflicted by Lycanthropy are 'sane and normal'. - Good to have confirmation that Muggles can be werewolves. God, what a shocking introduction to the magical world... I doubt they'd be accepted into it. Shunned, pushed out – more for Greybacks communes...

There are books published about the experience of being a werewolf – but the author is anonymous? Damn. That says a lot. The author doesn't want to risk being revealed even when pushing for sympathy. (1975... I bet Albus got that book for Remus while he was at school. :^) )

--- --- The Tales of Beedle the Bard Bloomsbury hardcover – pg 60

More recently, the self-help book The Hairy Heart: A Guide to Wizards Who Won't Commit5 has topped bestseller lists. 5 Not to be confused with Hairy Snout, Human Heart, a heart-rending account of one man's struggle with lycanthropy.

For context: This is part of Dumbledores notes on “The Warlock's Hairy Heart” A hundreds-of-years-old story (pg 55) where a Warlock (clarified as being a Wizard with particular skill or achievement, in olden times especially in duelling; pg 57) decides, essentially, that Love will make him weak and thus removes his heart with a fictional Dark Magic (pg 45). His heart, kept safety locked away, grows hair from being outside of his body (pg 51). When returned to his chest it turns him into a 'violent animal', a deranged 'beast' that takes what he wants by force: a regular human heart again. (pg 52/53/54)

- Dumbledore likens the fictional act of removing ones heart – splitting their body in order to be invulnerable – to Horcrux, splitting ones soul in order to be immortal. (pg 58/59) However - while I don't think it is intended to be a story about Lycanthropy - there are parallels that might have influenced Wizarding culture and views. As he says on page 59/60: 'Though somewhat dated, the expression 'to have a hairy heart' has passed into everyday wizarding language to describe a cold or unfeeling witch or wizard.'

A 'hairy heart' is no longer human. Dark magic has twisted it. The wizard in the story, placing a hairy heart into his human body, killed a woman seeking her 'human' heart. He licked and stroked it, rather obscenely - hoping to exchange it for his own... killing himself in the process. (pg53/54) That has parallels to how Lycanthropy functions: one becomes 'hairy', unreasonable, violently seeking humans.

Perhaps the concept of werewolves helped form the basis of the story, who knows – but what I think is more interesting is the idea that having a 'hairy' core is cold, unfeeling and beastly... If it's a common stereotype, then perhaps it imprints onto actual hairy people, too...? Beings vs Beasts, Centaur called 'Horses' as an insult - even to silly extremes like 'people with lots of body hair are more beastly, and thus untrustworthy'.

- The Hairy Heart: A Guide to Wizards Who Won't Commit sounds exactly like a book Remus Lupin should read. Would he be a man described as having a 'Hairy Heart'...?

- Albus considers Hairy Snout, Human Heart a 'heart-rending' book much like Newt Scamander does. Wowee, big surprise. They are both known to be sympathetic to Beings and Beasts. We don't really know what public perception of the book is: it could be unpopular or controversial and they are trying to spread a more positive light on it.

- Hairy Snout, Human Heart as a book title could be a direct play on the concept of having a 'hairy heart' – the book trying to show that werewolves are human, not hairy-hearted at all. This would insinuate that werewolves are assumed to be hairy-hearted, supporting my overall theory B^)

--- --- Wizarding World 'Fact File' - Werewolf https://www.wizardingworld.com/fact-file/creatures/werewolf (Some text removed for brevity - as it repeats what has already been covered)

Werewolves were normally human in form until the rising of the full moon, at which point they would be physically and mentally transformed into a fearsome wolf-like creature that was uncontrollably violent. Werewolf bites could be deadly unless they were treated with silver and dittany at which point the wound could be sealed and the victim sentenced to life as a werewolf. Some relief could be found through Wolfsbane Potion which would allow a werewolf to retain its human mind during transformation. Lord Voldemort recruited the notoriously vicious werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, to be one of his followers. … … Dangers Actively seeks humans in preference to any other kind of prey Only dangerous in werewolf-form during the full moon and can be subdued with a Wolfsbane potion

- Transformation at the RISING of the Full Moon. Not at the direct touch of its light. This follows with my theory in Part 3 that the POA transformation was not the Full Moon... Though, the moons rising doesn't always happen at night. I would assume it means more the 'rising of the night of the full moon', as in when it gets dark enough that sunlight no longer drowns out whatever magic the Full Moon casts – but that is my theory.

- 'Uncontrollably violent' unless you are a skinny dog. The more I read the more I am convinced that Remus kept some of his mind during the transformation in PoA – enough to run away and resist biting.

- A far more accurate take on Wolfsbane here in that it gives 'some relief', that the werewolf-form is 'subdued' (sedated) and confirmation that the werewolf, on Wolfsbane, 'retains it's human mind'. That insinuates complete/near-complete conscious thought.

- Could the 'ointment' detailed in Part 5 be 'Silver and Dittany'? Bill's wound being dabbed to slowly seal the wound fits what is described.

--- --- Wizarding World 'Fact File' – Wolfsbane Potion https://www.wizardingworld.com/fact-file/plants-and-potions/wolfsbane-potion (Some text removed for brevity - as it repeats what has already been covered)

A complicated concoction, the use of Wolfsbane Potion was important in the relief of symptoms of lycanthropy. For werewolves desperate to avoid a full transformation during the full moon, Wolfsbane Potion could be taken every day for a week preceding the moon and would allow the drinker to retain their mental, human, faculties following physical transformation. The potion was brewed for Remus Lupin by Severus Snape to enable him to work as a Professor at Hogwarts without endangering his students.… … Allows a werewolf to transform while retaining their state of mind If doses are missed, full werewolf transformation is still possible

- 'For werewolves desperate to avoid a full transformation' So we know werewolves transform no matter what – but it is not regarded as a 'full' transformation if they keep their mind. I can only see werewolves being desperate for that if, like Remus, they are living amongst normal society: they aren't desperate for the potion to make them feel better but are desperate for help in making them less likely to be discovered – and less likely to be dangerous.

- The potion is taken every day for a week preceding the Full Moon. - More confirmation that the drinker retains human mental faculties. A human mind in a wolf's body – thus Remus didn't endanger students.

Here's a thought: - Would this potion be useful for a werewolf like Fenrir Greyback? He wouldn't need to 'position himself nearby to ensure a bite on a victim' – he could just... think. Act. Be aware of every bite. He could be more effective in spreading Lycanthropy.

--- --- There was nothing particularly interesting in the 'Fact File' for Remus Lupin, but there was this:

Hobbies Being with Tonks Being a Marauder Sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest and Shrieking Shack

Hahaha 'Hobbies'... have wife, have friends, transform... Aw man, there's something real tragic about this...

--- --- Werewolves Originally published on Pottermore on Aug 10th 2015 https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/werewolves

There are werewolves worldwide and they have traditionally been pariahs in the wizarding communities from which they often spring; witches and wizards who are frequently involved in hunting or studying such creatures are exposed to a higher risk of attack than the average Muggle. In the late nineteenth century the great English authority on werewolves, Professor Marlowe Forfang, undertook the first comprehensive study of their habits. He found that nearly all those he managed to study and question had been wizards before being bitten. He also learned from the werewolves that Muggles ‘taste’ different to wizards and that they are much more likely to die of their wounds, whereas witches and wizards survive to become werewolves.

- Werewolves have always been pariahs. A long history of rejection. - Magical folk that deal with them are the most likely victims. Makes sense – also means that those who understand them the most are more likely to become them. They know their lives, their habits, their social situation... and then they join it, and see it from their viewpoint. They cross the bridge and look back at where they once were. Does that lead to more werewolf pride, I wonder...? - Muggles tend to die from bites. Not too surprising, given we are less resilient to injury in general. I wonder if the monthly transformations are also more debilitating and dangerous to Muggles? - Some people specialize in studying werewolves... ...but probably not many, since it took until the 19th century to do a comprehensive study on werewolf habits. With a name like 'Forfang' I bet Professor Marlow became a werewolf eventually lol - Nearly all those Professor Marlowe Forfang questioned had been Wizards, few were Muggles/Squibs. - Muggles 'taste different' An instinct to aim for those more likely to survive? Magic has a flavor, apparently.

The Ministry of Magic’s policies on werewolves have always been muddled and inefficient. A Werewolf Code of Conduct was developed in 1637, which werewolves were supposed to sign, promising not to attack anyone but to lock themselves up securely every month. Unsurprisingly, nobody signed the Code, as nobody was prepared to walk into the Ministry and admit to being a werewolf, a problem from which the later Werewolf Registry also suffered. For years, this Werewolf Registry, on which every werewolf was supposed to enter their name and personal details, has remained incomplete and unreliable, because so many of the newly-bitten sought to conceal their condition and escape the inevitable shame and exile. Werewolves have been shunted between the Beast and Being divisions of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for years, because nobody could make up their minds whether a werewolf should be classified as human or bestial. At one point, the Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Capture Unit were both in the Beast Division, while at the same time an office for Werewolf Support Services was established in the Being Division. Nobody ever presented themselves for Support Services, for the same reasons that very few ever signed the Registry, and it was eventually closed down.

British bureaucracy sucks and can't even handle basic shit? Wow... how wacky... - So before the Statue of Secrecy werewolves were supposed to come reveal themselves and play nice? A rather demeaning ask: Most were likely already doing this, just in secret so they weren't shunned. Someone really woke up and said “Ok werewolves, scum by nature - come put yourself on a list”

In 1637, When Witch hunting was picking up in intensity and the Puritans growing in number? No shit it didn't work lol Maybe that's exactly why it happened: Muggles were becoming more violent, so they were trying to control Wizarding threats...? Picking on minorities to look better, look responsible, to Muggles? But enforced by who? How? What was the punishment for failure...?

- Shame, exile and lack of support directly leads to people not sharing their conditions...? wow what a surprise. - Even now society can't decide whether werewolves are Beings despite being fully human 353 nights a year. It's all very bleak.

- Love that the Registry and CAPTURE were in the same place, the Beast Division, despite werewolves being human - how demeaning. Would they have even known support services were in the Being division? Seems unlikely.

To become a werewolf, it is necessary to be bitten by a werewolf in their wolfish form at the time of the full moon. When the werewolf’s saliva mingles with the victim’s blood, contamination will occur. The many Muggle myths and legends surrounding werewolves are, in the main, false, although some contain nuggets of truth. Silver bullets do not kill werewolves, but a mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite will ‘seal’ the wound and prevent the victim bleeding to death (although tragic tales are told of victims who beg to be allowed to die rather than to live on as werewolves).

- Love that 'Wolfish form' is the term for a transformed state. Epic. - Saliva mixed with a victims blood is how contamination occurs. I assume this means getting spit in a cut could be enough - or is at least not advisable - even in a human form, given what happened to Bill. What about saliva taken into the bloodsteam via eating it...? Is kissing safe? I would think so, otherwise there would surely be a few more contaminations like Bill.

- Silver does not kill werewolves - but Silver and Dittany on a fresh bite will 'seal' it in quotation marks? Also an Antifibrinolytic agent. Stopping the victim bleeding to death... well, Bill had his face torn apart, but there was no mention of blood being all over the sheets. I'd say that makes a strong case that Silver and Dittany is the ointment he was dabbed with.

- The clarification that Silver Bullets do not kill, but Silver is used to counteract elements of the transmitted curse... what is the effect silver has on a werewolf, then? Does a a werewolf in its human form suffer nothing from its touch? Perhaps a rash if wearing it against their skin too long? Would silver be uncomfortable in their Wolfish form? Would silver weaponry be a viable way to ward them off - as their curse reacts poorly to it...?

- People would rather die than be a werewolf, it's considered that horrible... and with most bites being those that hunt or study them, they would know well the world they are being forced to enter.

In the second half of the twentieth century, several potions were devised to soften the effects of lycanthropy. The most successful was the Wolfsbane Potion.

I assume these are the failed treatments Lupin's parent's tried. - Wolfsbane was devised not as a cure but to soften the effects. Devised as a treatment. I like that :^) It's nice when enough sensibility and care is taken to devise, from the start, not to shoot for the stars... but to help people stay afloat in the meantime. Shoutouts to the talented Potion Maker that didn't claim "I will CURE Lycanthropy"... but humbly said "I'll help them through the night."

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health. While in his or her wolfish form, the werewolf loses entirely its human sense of right or wrong. However, it is incorrect to state (as some authorities have, notably Professor Emerett Picardy in his book Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live) that they suffer from a permanent loss of moral sense. While human, the werewolf may be as good or kind as the next person. Alternatively, they may be dangerous even while human, as in the case of Fenrir Greyback, who attempts to bite and maim as a man and keeps his nails sharpened into claw-like points for the purpose.

- Fenrir you fucking embarrassing nerd. Sharpens his nails into claws like a furry edgelord. I bet he calls his wolfish form 'shadowhunter' or something. Wolfquest is installed on his PC But seriously the claws he has are a choice, not a physical quality.

- Werewolf transformation is 'extremely painful'... 'if untreated'...? Treated how? How is the transformation treated? Wolfsbane...? Lupin says it is very painful to turn into a werewolf – and that even with the potion he still transforms, just 'keeps his mind'. Subdued. Does it also numb the pain a little?

- Transformation is preceded and succeeded by 'a few days of pallor and ill health'. We know this already, it's just nice to have it stated so plainly.

- There are books published that openly call for the death of werewolves in the very title. :^( - It is a common enough belief, before or after Emerett's book, that werewolves lack moral sense even as humans.

If attacked by a werewolf that is still in human form, the victim may develop certain mild, wolfish characteristics such as a fondness for rare meat, but otherwise should not be troubled by long-term ill effects. However, any bite or scratch given by a werewolf will leave lasting scars, whether or not he or she was in a wolf’s form at the time of the attack.

- Bill's wolfish 'rare' meat love (it says 'bloody' in the book) is one of 'certain' mild effects he will experience. That's... annoying. What are the others...? Does he have any sort of cycle? A slight growth of body hair? A struggle to sleep on the Full Moon? JUST the meat thing? Surely not. - ANY bite OR SCRATCH left by a werewolf, even in human form, leaves scars. Remus can't go biting or scratching. Judging by Greyback - if he doesn't keep his nails trimmed and scratches someone it'll keep bleeding until treated. Does this count for himself, too...? We have nothing that confirms Werewolves heal from injuries better, only things that vaguely suggests it. Fenrir making his nails sharp makes more sense now. Still funny.

While in its animal form, the werewolf is almost indistinguishable in appearance from the true wolf, although the snout may be slightly shorter and the pupils smaller (in both cases more ‘human’) and the tail tufted rather than full and bushy. The real difference is in behaviour. Genuine wolves are not very aggressive, and the vast number of folk tales representing them as mindless predators are now believed by wizarding authorities to refer to werewolves, not true wolves. A wolf is unlikely to attack a human except under exceptional circumstances. The werewolf, however, targets humans almost exclusively and poses very little danger to any other creature.

- Specific differences to wolves: slightly shorter snout; pupils smaller (both more human); Tail is 'tufted' rather than full and bushy. Tufted as in a lion tail...? Or more like a poodle, which (apparently) have longer bushier hair at the ends of their tails accentuated by grooming...? I'm thinking if the spine extends... then the end of the spine on the human form grows fur first, becoming the tip of the tail as the spine lengthens out away from the body? For a moment, the werewolf looks like it has a bunny tail haha. - Folk tales depicting wolves as monsters are thought to actually refer to werewolves as true wolves are intelligent and often passive. A werewolves Wolfish form is less intelligent than a True Wolf. Also this strongly suggests 'True Wolf' means a regular wolf, not surprising. - Werewolves target humans 'almost exclusively' and pose very little danger to any other creature – although we know from the books that werewolves not only kill other animals but EAT them... So do they pose a lethal danger? Or barely any? Which is it? I'm believing more and more my 'survival strategy' theory that well fed summer werewolves focus on biting, winter werewolves focus on feeding...

Werewolves generally reproduce by attacking non-werewolves. The stigma surrounding werewolves has been so extreme for centuries that very few have married and had children. However, where werewolves have married human partners, there has been no sign of their lycanthropy being passed to their offspring.

- Werewolf 'reproduction' is considered to be spreading Lycanthropy rather than breeding.That is certainly how the disease/curse/virus/condition spreads itself. It dehumanises the werewolf to being a vessel: the werewolf isn't reproducing, their Lycanthropy is... But then again, perhaps that's apt? When they breed the child isn't a werewolf.

- The stigma is so intensely bad for werewolves that very few have had children – even within their own groups. They don't feel confident in raising a baby safely when everyone is a werewolf - there would be nobody to treat the bite wounds... - Lycanthropy is not passed through blood, egg or sperm – only saliva on the Full Moon. Unsurprising that it isn't passed down to offspring.

One curious feature of the condition is that if two werewolves meet and mate at the full moon (a highly unlikely contingency which is known to have occurred only twice) the result of the mating will be wolf cubs which resemble true wolves in everything except their abnormally high intelligence. They are not more aggressive than normal wolves and do not single out humans for attack. Such a litter was once set free, under conditions of extreme secrecy, in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, with the kind permission of Albus Dumbledore. The cubs grew into beautiful and unusually intelligent wolves and some of them live there still, which has given rise to the stories about ‘werewolves’ in the Forest – stories none of the teachers, or the gamekeeper, has done much to dispel because keeping students out of the Forest is, in their view, highly desirable.

- Thanks, I hate it.

- Werewolves mating on the Full Moon is unlikely...? That... is surprising, considering there's groups of werewolves that live nearby eachother, all transforming on the same night... You know what that means...?

~~Horny Werewolf is dead.~~ Werewolves are NOT horny near or on the Full Moon. They feel sick before - and during have other shit to do - like pass on their Lycanthropy. THAT is 'Horny Werewolf Breeding Season'.

Everyone pack up, go home – leave your alpha-Remus at the door. The LAST thing on his mind near the Full Moon is sex.

- Two transformed werewolves mating will have a litter of highly intelligent wolf cubs that do not hunt humans. Ignoring the image of a human carrying a pregnancy of multiple canines for a moment – Lycanthropy as a condition isn't just shapeshifting. It's put WOLF into human veins. I... dislike this unnecessary complication, not gonna lie. It changes the content of every egg in the ovaries – and then back again...!? Does the wolfish form share the same ovulation period as the human form? Is 'old' stored sperm still human sperm, but as the wolfish form produces more through the night... it's wolf sperm? When they turn back into a human do they still have wolf sperm for a bit? Oh my goddddd

- Albus Dumbledore under secret conditions allowing the release of werewolf-born Wolves – nice. Keeps the kids out the forest, while posing very little actual danger. Even werewolf-born Wolves, despite being intelligent and passive to humans, face prejudice and misunderstanding. Gotta be sneaky.

--- --- Remus Lupin Originally published on Pottermore on Aug 10th 2015 https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/remus-lupin (Since this isn't a character study on Remus – I'll try to only include things relevant to experiencing life with Lycanthropy. A lot of text is removed for brevity.)

By the time that Remus was four years old, the amount of Dark magical activity across the country was increasing steadily. While few yet knew what lay behind the mounting attacks and sightings, Lord Voldemort’s first ascent to power was in progress and Death Eaters were recruiting all kinds of Dark creatures to join them in their quest to overthrow the Ministry of Magic. … … It was here that Lyall came face-to-face with a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback, who had been brought in for questioning about the death of two Muggle children. The Werewolf Registry was badly maintained. Werewolves were so shunned by wizarding society that they generally avoided contact with other people; they lived in self-described ‘packs’ and did all they could to avoid being registered. Greyback, whom the Ministry did not know to be a werewolf, claimed to be nothing more than a Muggle tramp who was utterly amazed at finding himself in a room full of wizards, and horrified by the talk about the poor, dead children. Greyback’s filthy clothing and lack of wand were sufficient to persuade two overworked and ignorant members of the questioning committee that he was telling the truth, but Lyall Lupin was not so easily fooled. He recognised certain telltale signs in Greyback’s appearance and behaviour and told the committee that Greyback ought to be kept in detention until the next full moon, a mere twenty-four hours later.

- Unclear whether Werewolves are yet considered 'Dark Creatures' Death Eaters recruited - but I think it is insinuated.

- Insinuated here also that Fenrir killed two Muggle children – and feels no remorse, lying and pretending not to know... but that would have either been a month ago, on the last full moon (as the next one is only 24hrs away) – or he killed them in his human form recently. He does like tearing young soft throats... and Muggles 'taste different'

- Werewolves choose not to have contact with the people that shun them – and called their groups 'Packs'.

- Fenrir Greyback was not yet known. He looked 'like a Muggle tramp' - dirty appearance later was genuine, not just to play up his fearsome image. Also... it's a little chilling to think how he could have learned how to 'act like an amazed Muggle tramp'... I wonder if he has ever revealed magic to them before, only to kill them for fun?

- Greyback doesn't have a wand with him. We know he is adept at using a wand in the 90s... has he ever had his own wand? Has it been stolen? Broken in some fight? Or safely put away somewhere for the upcoming Moon? 24hrs is rather early...

- There are 'telltale signs' in 'appearance and behaviour' that someone is a werewolf. As it's so close to the Full Moon, perhaps it's being peaky and pale...

Greyback sat in silence while Lyall was laughed at by his fellow committee members (‘Lyall, you just stick to Welsh Boggarts, that’s what you’re good at’). Lyall, generally a mild-mannered man, grew angry. He described werewolves as ‘soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death’. The committee ordered Lyall out of the room, the head of the committee apologised to the Muggle tramp and Greyback was released.

Lyall, a man who studies Dark beings, is able to spout vile things right infront of a werewolf, with full confidence. Either it is truly what he believes - or it is so commonly parroted in society that it slips off the tongue without much thought: Soulless. Evil. Deserving nothing but death.

The wizard who escorted Greyback out of the inquiry was intending to place a Memory Charm upon him, so that he would forget having been inside the Ministry. Before he had a chance to do so, he was overpowered by Greyback and two accomplices who had been lurking at the entrance, and the three werewolves fled.Greyback lost no time in sharing with his friends how Lyall Lupin had just described them. Their revenge on the wizard who thought that werewolves deserved nothing but death would be swift and terrible. Shortly before Remus Lupin’s fifth birthday, as he slept peacefully in his bed, Fenrir Greyback forced open the boy’s window and attacked him. Lyall reached the bedroom in time to save his son’s life, driving Greyback out of the house with a number of powerful curses. However, henceforth, Remus would be a fully-fledged werewolf.

- Greyback had two friends waiting for him – his 'pack', surely. He wasn't alone, even at this earlier time in life before he was a leader, and they already had desires for revenge against those who were cruel.

- Greyback still had the clarity of mind to open and climb through a window when transformed!? Apparently the sun sets at around 6pm in March in the UK – I guess its possible Remus goes to bed before then...? a 6pm bedtime at nearly 5 is rough... but if he went to bed after sundown, like 7:30pm - surely Fenrir's wolf mind would have gotten bored and left. I suppose Fenrir must have enough mind to stick to a plan. - Powerful curses are enough to drive away Greyback after successfully biting his prey. Too bad Lyall didn't have a skinny dog.

Lyall Lupin never forgave himself for the words he had spoken in front of Greyback at the inquiry: ‘soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death’. He had parroted what was the common view of werewolves in his community, but his son was what he had always been – loveable and clever– except for that terrible period at the full moon when he suffered an excruciating transformation and became a danger to everyone around him. For many years, Lyall kept the truth about the attack, including the identity of the attacker, from his son, fearing Remus’s recriminations. … … Lyall did all he could to find a cure, but neither potions nor spells could help his son. From this time onwards, the family’s lives were dominated by the need to hide Remus’s condition. They uprooted themselves from village to town, leaving the instant that rumours of the boy’s odd behaviour started. Fellow witches and wizards noticed how peaky Remus became as a new moon approached, not to mention his monthly disappearances. Remus was not allowed to play with other children, in case he let slip the truth of his condition. In consequence, and in spite of his loving parents, he was a very lonely boy.

- It WAS parroted - it came easily to his tongue because it's the common societal view: Werewolves deserve death. They have lost their soul and become evil.

- Being bitten didn't change Remus at all. He was still a clever little boy. A clever little boy that suffered excruciating pain.

- Lyall tried his best but there was nothing that worked - likely all the attempted potions referenced on the Werewolves Pottermore page.

- Magical folk are keyed into Astronomy and moon cycles – so they noticed when the little boy who never played with anyone became ill and disappeared at the same time every month. The backlash would be so harsh the best option they had was to move and start fresh... every few months. Remus grew up lonely. His parents' lives were dominated by his care. They were likely lonely, too – moving towns... who would be friends with the parents of a werewolf?

While Remus was small, his containment during his transformation was not difficult; a locked room and plenty of silencing spells usually sufficed. However, as he grew, so did his wolfish self, and by the time he was ten years old, he was capable of pounding down doors and smashing windows. Ever more powerful spells were needed to contain him and both Hope and Lyall grew thin with worry and fear. They adored their son, but they knew that their community – already beset with fears at the mounting Dark activity around them – would not be lenient on an uncontrolled werewolf. The hopes that they had once had for their son seemed in ruins, and Lyall educated Remus at home, certain that he would never be able to set foot in school. Shortly before Remus’s eleventh birthday, no less a person than Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, arrived uninvited on the Lupins’ doorstep. Flustered and frightened, Lyall and Hope tried to block his entrance, but somehow, five minutes later, Dumbledore was sitting at the fireside, eating crumpets and playing Gobstones with Remus.

- Young werewolves aren't as strong. They get stronger with age – getting bigger. Your Wolfish form correlates to your human form.

- He was scary enough that his parents 'grew thin' after five years of dealing with him. At ten he could bash down doors and windows.

- They loved Remus and taught him at home - but had no hopes for society accepting ever him, or for him amounting to much. None. It was so impossible for society to accept him that they tried to stand up against Dumbledore, thinking he had ill intent. Even his Muggle mother tried to stop him, to defend her son from a Wizard. I wonder what ill intent they feared Albus was bringing...? Taking Remus away somewhere? Are werewolves sometimes hurt or taken away, for no crime...?

- Unrelated to werewolves but I just want to say that when Albus was a kid icecream sellers didn't exist in England - but there WAS the Muffin Man, who would walk around with crumpets and muffins, ringing a bell so all the kids would hear. It's really cute and sweet that he's doing something he remembers from his own childhood to connect with Remus??? Out of touch grandpa doing his best

Dumbledore explained to the Lupins that he knew what had happened to their son. Greyback had boasted of what he had done and Dumbledore had spies among Dark creatures. However, Dumbledore told the Lupins that he saw no reason why Remus should not come to school, and described the arrangements that he had made to give the boy a safe and secure place for his transformations. Due to the widespread prejudice around werewolves, Dumbledore agreed that for Remus’s own sake his condition should not be broadcast. Once a month, he would leave for a secure and comfortable house in the village of Hogsmeade, guarded by many spells and reached only by an underground passage from the Hogwarts grounds, where he could transform in peace.Remus’s excitement was beyond anything he had known before. It was the dream of his life to meet other children and have, for the first time, friends and playmates.

- Greyback is proud of biting the kid of a bigot. He knows to the vast majority being a werewolf is a punishment - and uses it as such. Does HE think of it as a punishment...? Or has he 'saved' Remus...? - Werewolves are counted as 'Dark Creatures'

- Dumbledore had already made the arrangements to shelter Remus, to support his individual needs and understands his need for utter secrecy – before even confirming whether he was going. Extremely pro-werewolf and doesn't treat them as an afterthought. Highly unusual.

- It is not illegal for Remus to attend school – but is frowned upon enough to warrant all this work. Like a wholeass tunnel and tree - before even knowing if he was coming to the school - he REALLY wanted him there.

- The 'Shrieking Shack' is described at this point in time as a 'comfortable house' – it was made to be pleasant, and secure.

- Remus' biggest dream in life was to have friends to play with.

Inevitably, his three best friends soon became curious as to why Remus had to vanish once a month. Convinced by his lonely childhood that his friends would desert him if they knew that he was a werewolf, Remus made up ever more elaborate lies to account for his absences. James and Sirius guessed the truth in their second year. To Remus’s astonished gratitude, they not only remained his friends but thought up an ingenious method of easing his monthly isolation. They also gave him a nickname that would follow him all through school: ‘Moony’. … … The death of James Potter, along with his wife Lily, at the hands of Lord Voldemort, was one of the most traumatic events of Remus’s already troubled life. His friends meant even more to him than to other people, because he had long since accepted the fact that most people would treat him as untouchable, and that there could be no possibility of marrying and having children. Even worse, within twenty-four hours he had also lost his two other best friends.

- Remus had his dream come true, he had friends, but was so used to having to run away. He would rather lie than trust.

- James and Sirius figured out the truth in second year. They were bright boys – but I'm sure sharng a dorm and Astronomy classes helped. In any case - they were 12 when they figured him out. 13 max. That's following only information they knew from Wizarding society trickling through their parents - or from an early lesson in DADA. Is he really that obvious? Or do they just have no filter? "Going away again Remus? Full moon tonight - what, are you a werewolf?" (Remus sweats profusely) "....N-No. That's crazy...."

- Remus was grateful they didn't hate him. Not just happy, or excited, or relieved - he felt it was something undeserved. - Losing his friends was traumatic. He expected to never get new people who cared about him. His friends were a miracle.

- Werewolves are treated as untouchables - and Remus accepts that werewolves are untouchables.

He had lost his three close friends and, with the Order disbanded, his previous comrades returned to busy lives with families. His mother was now dead, and while Lyall, his father, was always delighted to see his son, Remus refused to endanger his father’s peaceful existence by returning to live with him.Remus now lived a hand-to-mouth existence, taking jobs that were far below his level of ability, always knowing that he would have to leave them before his pattern of growing sick once a month at the full moon was noticed by his workmates.

- Lyall loved him but Remus felt guilt over how stressful he was, and likely blamed himself for his friends' death in an illogical 'bad things happen to those who care about me, I am cursed' way. He would rather live hand-to-mouth, earn money and spend it immediately on food and board, than 'burden' someone. ...His mother dead, but father happy to see him - I wonder if Lyall and Hope planned on having more children, but couldn't because of Remus...? Muggles aren't as hardy as Wizards are - and they both became thin from the stress and struggles of raising Remus. Of about 72 Full Moons in a row. Did Remus' condition bring his mother closer to death?

- He could only take basic jobs for short periods due to his condition, never getting to know anyone or forming a support network. - He left BEFORE his pattern was noticed, not WHEN it was noticed like his parents did. Now THAT is an unhealthy coping strategy.

One development in the wizarding community gave Remus hope: the discovery of the Wolfsbane Potion. While this did not prevent a werewolf losing his human form once a month, it restricted his transformation to that of an ordinary and sleepy wolf. It had always been Remus’s worst fear that he would kill while out of his right mind. However, the Wolfsbane Potion was complex and the ingredients very expensive. Remus had no chance to sample it without admitting what he was and so he continued his lonely, itinerant existence. … … Once again, Albus Dumbledore changed the course of Remus Lupin’s life when he tracked him down to a tumbledown, semi-derelict cottage in Yorkshire. Delighted to see the Headmaster, Remus was amazed when Dumbledore offered him the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was only persuaded to accept when Dumbledore explained that there would be a limitless supply of Wolfsbane Potion, courtesy of the Potions master, Severus Snape.

- Remus' worst fear is killing someone while 'under the influence'. Completely understandable - just wanted to point out that it isn't just 'being seen', or 'being thought of as a monster'... Which lines up with how he acts. When Hermione revealed him in PoA he openly confirmed it. He didn't lie or obscure - nor did he yell at Ron for treating him like a monster. What he DID do was spend ages carefully explaining how, despite being dangerous, he prioritized control.

- Wolfsbane is complex, ingredients expensive – and restricts his transformation to a 'sleepy wolf'. Sleepy. Restricted. Subdued. It's a sedative. Perhaps being sleepy cuts some pain out, too - as insinuated before. It would certainly at least stop him scratching and biting himself.

- No matter how scared he was of killing – he was more afraid of 'admitting what he was in order to sample some'. What does that mean? Would going on the Werewolf Registry give you chances to have Wolfsbane? Doubtful, because that would actually be a good move by the Ministry. Was it perhaps for testing? Hospitals studying its effects? Being a guinea pig...?

- Despite choosing loneliness for himself, despite pushing away those he cared about, despite thinking himself a burden, despite being apprehensive to accept opportunities when they came... He was still happy to get a visit from Dumbledore. Still amazed be treated as someone worth effort by him. Still desired to belong somewhere. To feel safe. To go home. His childhood dream of friendship, acceptance and belonging still lives in him. It's just trodden down and crushed.

At Hogwarts, Remus revealed himself to be a gifted teacher, with a rare flair for his own subject and a profound understanding of his pupils. He was, as ever, particularly drawn to the underdog, and both Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter benefited from his wisdom and kindness. However, Remus’s old flaw was at work. He had grave suspicions about one of his old friends, a known fugitive, but did not share them with anyone at Hogwarts. His desperate desire to belong and to be liked meant that he was neither as brave nor as honest as he ought to have been. An unfortunate combination of circumstances arose that resulted in Remus undergoing a true werewolf’s transformation in the grounds of the school. Severus Snape’s resentment, never abated by Remus’s subsequent respectful politeness, made sure that it was widely known what the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was. Remus felt obliged to resign and departed Hogwarts once more.

- Remus is an underdog himself, though I doubt he thinks of himself in that way - he would 'accept his role in the world' - but he understands the desire to be 'good enough' and 'belong' when there are troubles outside your control. He understands how impactful encouragement is. That understanding and guidance of others does not extend to himself. He won't gently guide himself like he would a student – he will avoid his fears and let himself be cowardly, untruthful and irresponsible for the sake of scraps of affection. He won't be as brave or honest as he would encourage in others, as he deeply believes he does not deserve it.... he isn't an underdog, just a beast.

- The transformation at the end of PoA was 'a true' one. True, as before, meaning 'doesn't have mental clarity'. It wasn't 'incomplete' or 'partial' from most of a weeks worth of potion. One missed potion is enough.

- Remus was not forced to quit, he felt obliged to resign. Instantly. While he had Dumbledore, ever supporting and sympathetic, in the room - and Harry wanting him to stay. He didn't talk to anyone, he didn't say goodbye to the kids, he wasn't even going to say goodbye to Harry. He didn't pass go or collect $200 - he didn't even let Albus walk him to the gate. He just skedaddled. He hadn't gotten a single hateful letter yet... but he is used to leaving before they have the chance. While he can still pretend he is liked and wanted.

As Lord Voldemort once again gained ascendancy, the old resistance regrouped and Remus found himself once more part of the Order of the Phoenix. This time, the group included an Auror who had been too young to belong to the Order during its first incarnation. Clever, brave and funny, pink-haired Nymphadora Tonks was a protégée of Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, the toughest and most grizzled Auror of them all. Remus, so often melancholy and lonely, was first amused, then impressed, then seriously smitten by the young witch. He had never fallen in love before. If it had happened in peacetime, Remus would have simply taken himself off to a new place and a new job, so that he did not have to endure the pain of watching Tonks fall in love with a handsome, young wizard in the Auror office, which was what he expected to happen. However, this was war; they were both needed in the Order of the Phoenix, and nobody knew what the next day would bring. Remus felt justified in remaining exactly where he was, keeping his feelings to himself but secretly rejoicing every time somebody paired him with Tonks on some overnight mission. It had never occurred to Remus that Tonks could return his feelings because he had become so used to considering himself unclean and unworthy. One night when they lay in hiding outside a known Death Eater’s house, after a year of increasingly warm friendship, Tonks made an idle remark about one of their fellow Order members (‘He’s still handsome, isn’t he, even after Azkaban?’). Before he could stop himself, Remus had replied bitterly that he supposed she had fallen for his old friend (‘He always got the women.’). At this, Tonks became suddenly angry. ‘You’d know perfectly well who I’ve fallen for, if you weren’t too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice.’Remus’s immediate response was a happiness he had never experienced in his life, but this was extinguished almost at once by a sense of crushing duty. He had always known that he could not marry and run the risk of passing on his painful, shameful condition. He therefore pretended not to understand Tonks, which did not fool her at all. Wiser than Remus, she was sure that he loved her, but that he was refusing to admit it out of mistaken nobility. However, he avoided any further excursions with her, barely talked to her, and started volunteering for the most dangerous missions. Tonks became desperately unhappy, convinced not only that the man she loved would never willingly spend time with her again, but also that he might walk to his death rather than admit his feelings.

- Interesting that Remus falls for a woman that is effortlessly all the things he tries hard to come across as - brave, clever, good humored, capable.

- Remus had never fallen in love before. Demi...? And/or would run away before he actually got to know anyone well enough. He never lets himself care about anyone enough. He isn't good enough to have anyone care about him. She will like just 'some other dude', because he isn't possibly on her radar, even though he delights in her company and has a warm friendship. He is too 'unclean' and 'unworthy'. The self loathing is so fucking real. And also so fucking obvious - Tonks has already clocked him as not only liking her but being too self-hateful not to realize she likes him back.

- He allows himself happiness for only a fleeting moment before grinding it under his heel. It is FACT he cannot be happy, ever, and anyone who likes him will suffer because of it. He will cause misery himself, by his own control, rather than allow himself to cause accidental misery later. It's inevitable, after all. He would rather die than face having his deepest hopes and dreams crushed again.

Remus came face-to-face with both Greyback and Tonks at Hogwarts barely a year later, when the Order clashed with Death Eaters within the castle. During this battle, Remus lost yet another person he had loved: Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been adored by every member of the Order of the Phoenix, but to Remus, he had represented the sort of kindness, tolerance and understanding that he had received from nobody in the world outside his parents and his three best friends, and had been the only man ever to offer him a position within normal wizarding society. In the aftermath of the bloody fight, inspired by Fleur Delacour’s protestation of enduring love for Bill Weasley, who had been savaged by Greyback, Tonks made a brave, public declaration of her feelings for Remus, who was forced to admit the strength of his love for her. In spite of continuing misgivings that he was acting selfishly, Remus married Tonks quietly in the north of Scotland, with witnesses taken from the local wizarding tavern. He continued to fear that the stigma attached to him would infect his wife and wished for no fanfare around their union; he swung constantly between elation that he was married to the woman of his dreams and terror of what he might have brought upon them both.

- Love that Tonks is given as much weight as Greybac. Both make him face aspects of his being he really wants to avoid: His Lycanthropy, his image, his fate... his humanity, his dreams. Both are heavy burdens to carry. Both are realities that are painful.

- Dumbledore was the only person outside his friends and parents to fully accept him. To understand him. To support him. Want him. Not just put up with him, holding their tongue on prejudice or ignoring the 'ugly' bits. (Part of that will that he doesn't let others get close enough, like Tonks and Harry.)

- Tonks was brave for her public declaration - in ways deeper than just being brave to love someone openly. Loving HIM openly is an act of self social mutilation... how could he NOT love her?! His parents loved him regardless of their declining health. His friends became Animagi just to be with him. Dumbledore have him a home, an education, a job - endless support. And Tonks was willing to submit herself to his same social class just to love him. True acceptance is a siren song too strong to resist. Even if it lands to 'irresponsible' decisions he will 'regret'. Like going on Full Moon adventures... or withholding information.

Within a few weeks of their marriage, Remus realised that Tonks was pregnant and every fear he had ever had surfaced. He was convinced that he had passed on his condition to an innocent child and that he had condemned Tonks to the same life as his mother, forever moving around, unable to settle, having to hide her increasingly violent child from sight. Full of remorse and self-recrimination, Remus fled, leaving the pregnant Tonks, seeking out Harry and offering to accompany him on whatever death-defying adventure awaited. To Remus’s shock and displeasure, the seventeen-year-old Harry not only declined his offer but became angry and insulting. He told his ex-teacher that he was acting selfishly and irresponsibly. Remus responded with uncharacteristic violence and stormed out of the house, taking refuge in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, where he sat drinking and fuming. However, after a few hours’ reflection, Remus was forced to accept that his ex-pupil had just taught him a valuable lesson. James and Lily, Remus reflected, had stuck with Harry even unto their own deaths. His own parents, Lyall and Hope, had sacrificed their peace and security to keep the family together. Bitterly ashamed, Remus left the inn and returned to his wife, where he begged her forgiveness and assured her that, come what may, he would never leave her again. For the rest of Tonks’s pregnancy, Remus eschewed missions for the Order of the Phoenix and made it his first priority to protect his wife and unborn child.

- Remus wasn't just scared for Teddy's health - he compared Tonks to his mother, scared he would have doomed her to a life of moving and stress... and Remus couldn't even help her: He would transform too - Tonks having to handle both him and his son alone. That is terrifying, and running away understandable - if of course not the right option. He simplifies the issues in her life... potentially saves her from death by stress.

- Remus would rather go and do something highly important that could kill him. Coping strategy: be useful or die a hero. Sounds a lot like how both James and Sirius died: Taking deadly risks to 'do the right thing' at great pain to their loved ones.

- Having his flaws and failings to plainly pointed out to him, rather than being unfairly hated or treated with gloves... broke Remus. He was utterly unlike himself. Deranged. Emotional. Forced to face his choices as a human, propperly, by a man he respects. How did he deal with this pain? He drank alcohol. It is an interesting choice: A substance that causes a clouding of the mind, a loss of motor control... encourages poor decision making... The things he hates about his transformation, He indulges in here. The pain of his humanity making him want to turn to his wolf...?

- Harry's family gave him strength... but so did his own. Which I like more personally - Harry saying Remus should be prepared to stay and die like his own father did rather than try to find a way to not repeat history is an understandable thing for an emotional 17yr old to say - but it stinks. Remus pulling from his own parents' staying there for him no matter what... better.

The Lupins’ son, Edward Remus (‘Teddy’), was named for Remus’s recently deceased father-in-law. To both parents’ relief and delight, he showed no sign of lycanthropy when born, but inherited his mother’s ability to change his appearance at will. On the night of Teddy’s birth, Remus briefly left Tonks and his son in the charge of his mother-in-law, so that he could go and find Harry for the first time since their angry confrontation. Here, he asked Harry to be Teddy’s godfather, feeling nothing but forgiveness and gratitude towards the person who had sent him home to the family that gave him his greatest happiness.

- Both parents has concerns Ted would be a werewolf, despite that not being how it works... - Ted showed no signs at birth. What would those signs be...? If you can tell who is a werewolf by 'clear signs' - why are they so rarely spotted? - Remus' greatest happiness was his wife and child. Remember his dream as a kid...? To have other kids to play with? To be accepted, normal, not have to hide - and just play?

Both Remus and Tonks returned to Hogwarts for the final battle against Voldemort, leaving their tiny son in the care of his grandmother. The couple knew that if Voldemort won this battle, their family was sure to be eliminated: both were notorious members of the Order of the Phoenix, Tonks was a marked woman in the eyes of her Death Eater aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, and their son was the very antithesis of a pure-blood, having many Muggle relatives and a dash of werewolf. Having survived numerous encounters with Death Eaters and fought his way skilfully and bravely out of many tight corners, Remus Lupin met his end at the hands of Antonin Dolohov, one of the longest-serving, most devoted and sadistic of all Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Remus was no longer in prime fighting condition when he rushed to join the fight. Months of inactivity, using mostly spells of concealment and protection, had blunted his duelling capabilities, and when he ran up against a dueller of Dolohov’s skill, now battle-hardened after months of killing and maiming, his reactions were too slow. Remus Lupin was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, the first werewolf ever to be accorded this honour. The example of his life and death did much to lift the stigma on werewolves. He was never forgotten by anyone who knew him: a brave, kind man who did the best he could in very difficult circumstances and who helped many more than he ever realised.

- I left a lot in here because it always makes me cry, for real - and now you will cry too. Suffer.

- 'Antithesis' of a Pureblood is muggle heritage, plus something that 'taints' - like Lycanthropy. Interesting. Is that worse than being Muggleborn...? Does this insinuate that Fenrir Greyback could be Pureblood...? - Remus was the first werewolf to be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class. Probably the first to be awarded anything, lets be real. What was he awarded it for...? - Remus' story was inspiring and helped cause some change.

- He never got to know he was eventually awarded and respected. He died believing he would have to battle for Tonks and Ted his entire life. Even with the war won and they were safe his life would be a struggle, like his own father. :^)

~~~ ~~~ Summary of part (italics + small are my own thoughts/theories)

Lycanthropy is believed to originate in Northern Europe. (FB by N.S.) Contamination occurs when werewolf saliva mixes with the blood of a victim, such as through a bite. (Werewolves Pottermore) It causes a transformation every month into a wolf-like creature that's uncontrollably violent. (Werewolf Fact File) The term for a werewolves transformed state is their 'Wolfish Form'. (Werewolves Pottermore)

A werewolves Wolfish Form is considered so dangerous it has a XXXXX M.O.M. Classification – a Wizard Killer; Impossible to train or domesticate – the same league as Dragons, Nundu and Acromantula. (FB by N.S.) A child's Wolfish Form is able to be kept contained by a locked room with silencing spells, but by ten years old they are strong enough to pound down doors and smash windows. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

'True Transformation' is the term for a werewolf's Wolfish Form who is not on Wolfsbane. (Remus Lupin Pottermore) A Wolfish Form is unique amongst beasts for seeking human prey and rarely targeting other animals. (FB by N.S.) (Werewolves Pottermore) Muggles are said to taste different and tend to die from their bites. Only a low portion of the werewolf population are Non-Magical. (Werewolves Pottermore) As the treatment for fresh bites is Silver and Dittany, it could be that Muggles simply don't get proper treatment and bleed out.

Theory: Originating from a part of the world with long winter nights, low density human populations, difficult to traverse winter landscapes and not much food in winter that isn't meat... Perhaps Lycanthropy was a way to survive? We know that while werewolves prefer human prey they are capable of killing and eating animal prey. Perhaps a starving mid-winter werewolf will spend the long nights devouring prey they cannot hunt as a human – large magical game or even other humans, ones that taste different and are less likely to survive (Muggles) or accidents from being too desperate and uncontrollably violent to simply bite and run. In summer, with a full belly and no snow, perhaps they are less likely to hunt other animals and instead seek out people – to bite and spread the condition.

Despite being so uncontrollably violent, there seems to be some ability to think within the Wolfish Form's mind... perhaps a healthy werewolf with a full belly? Even in a 'true transformation' a werewolf has the potential to stick to a plan, opening a window and crawling inside to bite someone – as Frenrir Greyback achieved when biting Remus Lupin. He was driven back after the bite by 'powerful hexes'. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Wolfsbane potion allows a Werewolf to retain its mental human faculties and subdues it. Restricts the transformation to being a sleepy wolf. (Werewolf Fact File)(Wolfsbane Potion Fact File)(Remus Lupin Pottermore) Wolfsbane is for werewolves desperate to avoid a 'full transformation' and is taken every day for a week preceeding the Full Moon. If doses are missed a 'full transformation' is still possible. (Wolfsbane Potion Fact File) As the potion retains mental faculties: A 'full transformation' is thus a loss of human thought and instead natural violence and clouded mind – synonymous with True Transformation. This suggests they are not desperate for relief from the other symptoms of Lycanthropy like pain and illness – they are desperate to just fit in a little better. Not lose themselves. Not pose a threat. It is a complex potion made from expensive ingredients. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Werewolf transformation is extremely painful and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health. (Werewolves Pottermore) The term 'usually' is interesting here. I would assume having better health, like Fenrir Greyback, would deal better – while someone as sickly as Remus Lupin would have rougher symptoms.

Newt Scamander says 'recent developments in potion-making have to a great extent alleviated the worst symptoms'. (FB by N.S.) Many potions were devised in the second half of the 20th century, with Wolfsbane being the most successful. (Werewolves Pottermore) Wolfsbane is the only known treatment, it was invented by at earliest 1978 – and it only keeps the werewolves mind human while in its Wolfish form and sedates them. This means Newt believes a werewolves 'worst symptoms' are the lack of mental clarity and abundance of drive to move and hunt. Not the pain, loss of bodily identity and control or days of illness accompanying it. Remus felt hopeful about the Wolfsbane potion being developed – but would have to reveal himself to sample it, or be far richer to buy it, so did not get to have any. Despite his adoration for Albus Dumbledore and his desire to belong, to have friends – Remus only accepted the role of being a teacher when he was offered endless Wolfsbane potion. His worst fear is killing someone while unaware in his wolfish form. (Remus Lupin Pottermore) Theory: I'd say he was hopeful it truly would fix him and let him live normally. It didn't. That might have helped with how flippant he was about taking it in PoA. Werewolf transformation occurs at the rising of the Full Moon. (Werewolf Fact File) ...Though this does not line up with other information we have, how characters act around werewolves nor even what we see happen in Prisoner of Azkaban. In Part 3 I detail a theory on how the 'once a month Full Moon transformation' actually seems to work. Werewolves have to lie about themselves constantly in order to fit in. However, due to the cyclic nature of Lycanthropy, the telltale signs can be difficult to hide for more than a few months. It took less than two years for some twelve year old boys to figure Remus out – in a place like Hogwarts where the idea of a werewolf being there would be preposterous. (Remus Lupin Pottermore) A werewolves Wolfish Form has some key differences to True Wolves: A slightly shorter snout and smaller pupils (both more 'human') and a tufted tail rather than full and bushy. True Wolves are intelligent and typically passive animals – folk tales that depict wolves as monsters are these days thought to be referring to werewolves. (Werewolves Pottermore) The Muggle myth of Silver Bullets is not real and silver does not kill werewolves – however, Silver and Dittany on a fresh bite will 'seal' the wound and prevent potential death by bloodloss. (Werewolf Fact File) (Werewolves Pottermore) Theory: Silver, an antibacterial metal, has an effect on Lycanthropy that stops its intended function. If we think of Lycanthropy as a virus, bacteria or parasite that takes over its host when the magic from the Full Moon is at its most potent – is Silver uncomfortable for it? Could silver weaponry help ward off Werewolves? I wonder if, at their most potent, Werewolves have a mild silver allergy.

Even if a werewolf is in their human form, a victim may develop mild wolfish characteristics from blood contamination by their saliva – such as a fondness for rare meat. Any bite or scratch from a werewolf in any form will leave lasting scars. Fenrir Greyback sharpens his nails into claw-like points in order to maim and kill as a human. (Werewolves Pottermore)

Werewolves were considered some of the 'Dark Creatures' the Death Eaters were recruiting in the 1960s. Despite this, werewolves with Muggle heritage are considered equal or worse to Muggleborn's to the Death Eaters – at least by the 1990s. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

In the early 1960's Fenrir was unknown to be a werewolf, and could successfully pretend to be a Muggle tramp to Wizards who didn't know better: filthy clothing and lack of a wand... but had friends he lived with and boasted to, who fought for him and were just as angry about treatment towards them as Fenrir was. He still showed 'telltale' signs of Lycanthropy (likely because it was 24hrs till the next Full Moon) however and someone with a trained eye, such as Lyall Lupin, could recognised he was potentially a werewolf. (Remus Lupin Pottermore) Theory: Fenrir killed two Muggle children while in Human Form. It is insinuated – through him being pulled in as a 'Muggle Tramp', it being a month since the last Full Moon, the mention of the Death Eaters recruiting Dark Creatures to hate Muggles with them, Fenrir's apparent love for young soft flesh as a human – and his blatant avoidant lying when questioned.

Werewolves are 'untouchables' and do not expect to have children. (Remus Lupin Pottermore.) 'Reproduction' is considered to be via contamination of non-werewolves as they rarely mate in Human or Wolfish Form. Werewolves that mate in their Human Form do not produce werewolf offspring – but regular humans. However, if two werewolves were to meet and mate on the Full Moon, a rare occurrence, a litter of puppies similar to True Wolves will be produced – but even more intelligent and rarely aggressive. (Werewolves Pottermore) This heavily suggests that being a werewolf isn't a very sexually-charged existence – else werewolves that live together on the edge of society would be having kids in both Human and Wolfish forms. Human form mating results in human children – who are at risk of being bitten and dying by their own parents. Wolfish Form mating is considered to be very rare – so they are too uncontrollably violent and not interested enough in sex to try.

Albus Dumbledore secretly released a litter of werewolf-born wolves into the Forbidden Forest, giving rise to legends of werewolves inhabiting the forest and discouraging humans from entering it – while posing very little actual danger. (Werewolves Pottermore)

Remus Lupin had never fallen in love before he met Tonks – and if he had, he would have run away. Nymphadora Tonks was considered brave to reveal she loved him regardless of the inevitable shunning she would be subjected to. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Remus left when Tonks got pregnant because he feared having a werewolf son aswell as himself would have given her the same life as his mother – having to move frequently, becoming thin with stress and worry - dying early. However having a family was Remus' greatest happiness. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Loving families had no options when it came to treatments in the 1960s. The shunning was so bad that Lupin's family had to move house every time rumors grew about him due to his monthly peaky visage and disappearances. He wasn't allowed to play with other children, isolated and lonely – his parent's lives were dominated by caring for him, teaching him at home and keeping themselves safe every Full Moon. His parents grew thin with worry and fear as, every year, their little boy's Wolfish Form got bigger and stronger with him – and they had no social support or potential future for him. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Despite being 'untouchables' – when there is no Full Moon werewolves are as harmless as any human. Werewolves are sane and normal wizards and Muggles. (FB by N.S.) Getting Lycanthropy changes nothing about who you are as a person. Remus was just as clever and loveable as before he was bitten. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

There is an autobiography by an anonymous werewolf called 'Hairy Snout, Human Heart' published by Whizz hard Books, 1975. Described as 'a heartrending account of one wizard's battle with Lycanthropy' by both Newt Scamander and Albus Dumbledore. (FB by NS – and Beedle the Bard) Did the publishing of this book cause a push for the development of a treatment...? :^) I've seen a theory that this book was written by Remus Lupin himself – white cute, I doubt it. Remus was 15 at the time it was published and is not the type of man to want to broadcast his experiences, even if anonymous. He isn't out here fighting for werewolf rights – he is trying to be 'a good one'. Werewolves are traditionally pariahs. (Werewolves Pottermore) Werewolf bite victims are 'sentenced' to life as a werewolf. (Werewolf Fact File) There are stories of victims who beg to be allowed to die rather than live as a werewolf. Witches and Wizards that involve themselves with werewolves, like hunting or studying them, are more likely to be bitten. (Werewolves Pottermore) It is those who know werewolves and their life situation best that then find themselves on the other side of that fence – and their immediate reaction is to beg to die. Prof. Marlowe Forfang in the late 19th century did the first comprehensive study on werewolf habits. (Werewolves Pottermore) With a name like Forfang... was he soon to be bitten himself, I wonder? B^)

There has long been attempts to expose and list Werewolves. In 1637, before the Statue of Secrecy, a Werewolf Code of Conduct was attempted – asking werewolves to sign and promise not to attack anyone and lock themselves up every Full Moon. Nobody signed as no werewolf was prepared to reveal themselves so brazenly. Werewolves have been shunted between the Beings and Beasts divisions in the Ministry for years, sometimes services split between them. At once point, Werewolf Register and Capture were in the Beast division – while an office for Werewolf Support Services in the Being division. Nobody went to the Support Services and it was shut down. (Werewolves Pottermore)

Common view in Wizarding communities that werewolves are 'soulless, evil and deserve nothing but death'. They are shunned that that avoid other people and form 'packs', avoiding being registered. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

There are books published that freely spread misinformation against werewolves, such as Prof. Emerett Picardy's book 'Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live', which state things such as werewolves permanently lacking moral sense. (Werewolves Pottermore)

Remus' parents were so fearful of how utterly shunned they were that they tried to prevent Albus Dumbledore from seeing their son – though he was only there to discuss good news: he was going to be sneaky in order to smuggle Remus into Hogwarts and keep him safe. A comfortable house through a long underground tunnel guarded by a magical tree... just so Remus had a chance at an education. Remus was more excited than anything he had felt in his life at being allowed to go to Hogwarts. His dream was to be able to play with other kids and make friends. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Nobody had ever shown Remus true kindness, tolerance and understanding outside of Albus Dumbledore, his parents and his three friends at school. Remus felt gratitude for his friends not hating him for being a werewolf. He thought such acceptance would never grace him again – making it extra traumatic when his friends all died/were locked away. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Remus' family always loved him, always fought for him, his father was always happy to see him – but he avoided him as a young adult, as to not 'endanger his peaceful existence' with his presence. He cared so much about this he chose loneliness and utter poverty, a hand-to-mouth existence of small jobs he frequently had to flee before being caught out, to simply living with his loving father. Remus lived in a tumbledown, semi-derelict cottage. (Remus Lupin Pottermore) It is either all he could afford – or he was squatting. Remus is drawn to nurturing 'underdogs' – but doesn't consider himself one, at least not consciously. He doesn't nurture himself to be as brave nor as honest as he does his students. He considers himself 'unclean and unworthy' of others. Remus felt obliged to leave Hogwarts as soon as he was found out – he was never fired, and had not even faced any backlash or shunning yet. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

Remus is the only werewolf to be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class – and his life story and martyrdom lifted a lot of stigma against werewolves. (Remus Lupin Pottermore)

#hp #remus lupin #love you remus #remus my beloved #hp meta #fenrir greyback #pottermore #lycanthropy #this one was HARD to get done for some reason #my brain didnt like it #so im just gonna post it as is for now ugh i dont wanna look at it anymore

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ravenbloodshot · 10 months ago

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Kim Sung Cheol (actor)- Personality Reading 🤔🥱

He can be quite active. I saw a scene of him riding on a bike quite professionally (he was doing flips and tricks on the bike and going super fast). I also saw the image of a motorcycle, could mean he rides them or is just interested in them

Has a high sex drive

When angry, his entire body could go rigid. He may be the type to explode, but before the explosion, he would look like death itself. The man may be scary when upset (this doesn't have to mean he gets this angry over little things)

He's quite indecisive and lacks direction (purpose) at times. He could feel hopeless and like life is always throwing challenges at him when he's doing good for a period. It's like the saying "move two steps forward , to get pushed one step back." I'm getting a vibe that he finds it hard to get work

He could feel entitled to be helped by ppl that he has helped. He has some codependent tendencies and finds it hard to break free from habits and people he's close to

I'm getting really depressive energy, so I think KSC can become depressed quite easily or have a lot of dark thoughts

He does well at helping others with their mental woes (he's probably his friends personal therapist). He can open others mind to things they've never considered. Relays the harsh truth to those living in ignorance

He can and has sacrificed a lot in his attempts to succeed in life. The type of person to pull all nighters, studying a script but ends up suffering the consequence for neglecting his body. I feel like he does this type of thing often, like not eating bc he's too focused on other things that day. He just has to learn balance and not sacrifice too much of himself

In relationships, he can be too obsessive and fixed on a person he likes (even if they don't like him), he could still yearn for them in an unhealthy way. Type of person to stalk his love interests

This guy is a HARD WORKER. Like SUPER hardworking, he has to look after his health, though.

He tries to do too much at once, which can leave him stressed. I do think he's great at keeping up communication with ppl he cares about (responds quickly and consistently)

He's quite argumentative

(WHAT?!! A Mercury in Sagittarius person is ARGUMENTATIVE??? *surprised Pikachu face*) lol

He could be a conspiracy theorists. Also, doesn't like politicians and could dislike the korean government

Lit Thot by Cardi B is a song that fits this reading's energy

#korean actor #kim sung cheol #scorpio sun #korean actor tarot #tarot reading #Spotify

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year ago

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Abyss

Behold the fruit of my hard work and dedication - a 4500 word MDZS Subnautica AU (part 1)! And when you think I barely knew what that was a month or so ago - character development!

Special thanks to @sasukimimochi for not only giving me alien fish brain worms in general but also for this prompt and all the feedback that's helped me improve this ficlet! This wouldn't have been possible without you!

This will probably not make very much sense without context, but I tried my best to write it in a pretty simple way so that it can be enjoyed on its own even so. The focus is more on feeling anyway!

Enjoy and see you in part 2 <3

There had never been anything more unnerving to Wei Wuxian than silence where there had always been noise, the suffocating feeling of nothing where there had always been something. And that place, that planet, had not been quiet. There had always been sound – the creatures, the currents, the mechanical whirrs of technology, the radio transmissions of people long gone, the data bank entries.

The voice of a loved one, the reassurance that they were still alive because you could see their vitals beep mechanically across a screen, endless. The promise of return, the confirmation that they were with you still.

All of that had been replaced with silence – and Wei Wuxian felt it crawl into his body like winding, lead vines, his hands going numb with anxiety as his heart rate picked up to the point of a health alert beeping incessantly into his ears. It was as though the entire world had stopped, quieted down as if in waiting, like an eager audience focused on the climax of a theater play. What was going to happen next? What would the grand reveal be, the aftermath of what had been before?

Because, before that terrible, painful silence, there had been deafening noise – screaming, growling, the sickening sound of equipment being torn into by something beyond the capabilities of human imagination. He heard it – all of it, through the communication system, and could do nothing but that. Hear. Fourteen hundred meters below sea level, four hundred beyond the capacity of his Seamoth, his beloved was fighting for his life against a relentless, wrathful monster.

And he was powerless to help. If he had tried going down, the pressure would have caved the entire ship into itself, so even if Lan Wangji did survive, there would be nowhere – and nobody – left for him to return to.

And they had made a promise, when they found themselves stranded in this hell world – that they wouldn’t both die here. That, no matter what happened, no matter what they encountered, one of them would come back home alive and stay alive – because there was someone waiting for them at home, in a corner of their galaxy they hadn’t seen ever since they’d passed through the phasegate leading them here. And they had made a promise to that little, crying face, that they would return.

And so, no matter how much his instincts screamed at him to do something, anything, come up with a plan, how can you stay idle while your husband is dying?! – Wei Wuxian did nothing but listen to the fierce fight, motionless in place, shaking, eyes squeezed shut like he was waiting for a powerful blow to hit him the same way it would hit Lan Wangji.

And then, it was over. The sounds stopped altogether, replaced with that same nothingness that Wei Wuxian had always been so desperate to fill, with music and conversation and even just the tiniest hums and responses from his beloved.

But he could do none of those things then - all that he was left to do was, yet again, to listen. Listen for the communication system to crackle to life, and for Lan Wangji to tell him that he was alive, that the creature had been defeated or at least ran off – but Sea Dragons were nothing if not vicious. And despite the prowess of the prawn suit, it had never claimed to be indestructible. If anything, Wei Wuxian was quite certain he had heard it being destroyed before the transmission cut off.

What could he even do now? He did not have enough supplies to build a second prawn suit, not on such short notice, to try to – to reach that facility as well. The only reason they’d even gone there was an attempt to find a cure for the bacterium they’d both been infected with, to try to stay alive in this wretched place until they could get out – but of course, nothing could ever come easy in a place like this.

And he doubted he could deal with the knowledge that he had lost his husband – or, should there be any left, the remains of – of the suit and the - !

His vision became blurry as he stared ahead at the ship’s controls, useless. His fists clenched, hard, and he felt his wedding band bite against his skin with the strength of his grip. Would that symbol of love and devotion now become a relic? A bitter reminder of the person he lost because he couldn’t do anything but listen to him die?

How could he allow all this to happen? Why did he not think of something, anything to prevent this? He should have never let Lan Wangji go down there, he should have –

…ei…ng – Wei Ying!

Wei Wuxian’s head snapped up, as if to search for the source of the sound. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was this just some other creature attempting to prey on him and use some form of telepathy to get him vulnerable?

Wei Ying, do you copy?

A tremor shook violently through Wei Wuxian’s body, the last of his tears flowing down his face. That was not a trick, it couldn’t have been. No matter how powerful, the creatures on that planet could not replicate Lan Wangji’s voice so well. No, that was his husband, loud and clear – and yet, “Lan Zhan…? You’re… you’re alive?”

I am here. I managed to evade the Sea Dragon Leviathan by taking cover inside the facility.

Relief flooded Wei Wuxian’s system to the point of it being nearly overwhelming, a fresh wave of tears invading his vision. His husband was there, he was still alive, conscious and his, there was still hope that they would, somehow, reunite and perhaps even leave this terrible place.

However, the prawn suit is beyond repair. I am going to have to manage on my own.

The relief had been short lived, though, as the magnitude of the situation befell Wei Wuxian again. Lan Wangji was not only alone in a strange, alien facility, but he was also largely defenseless. Whatever awaited him there… he would have no chance to survive against it.

But returning to the base, or even swimming upwards towards the Seamoth, was not viable either – for all it was worth, the alien facility was far safer than the open waters, where it was no guarantee other hostile creatures would not attack. In fact, it was more of a guarantee that Lan Wangji would die if he left the building than if he stayed inside of it.

Wei Wuxian could tell he was spiraling, and losing his head to overthinking and panic would help nobody - what he needed to be was calm, collected and rational. He would allow his emotions to take over once Lan Wangji was in his arms once more, safe and unscathed.

So, Wei Wuxian took in a deep breath to steel himself and focus on the certainties of the moment. One, his husband was alive. And two, he needed to help him stay alive until they found a way to get him out of there. Two possibilities emerged: either Lan Wangji would be able to find a safe exit, or Wei Wuxian would come up with a way to go down there and retrieve him - of course, without compromising any of their vehicles.

Considering the fact that he did not currently have the equipment to go down to the facility and retrieve Lan Wangji himself, the latter option would not be viable - so all that was left was for Lan Wangji to find a safe passage away from the facility.

As tedious as that could be, though, the alien buildings were rarely death traps – their previous inhabitants needed a means to get in and out, after all. The only question was, how did they manage to do that in a building 1400 meters below sea level, surrounded by an active lava lake and aggressive predators looming so closely?

“How’s your inventory?”

I’ve emptied out some of the storage unit of the prawn suit and still have the supplies I need. I’ve used up one of my tablets to deactivate the force field.

“Vitals?”

Optimal. I’m alright, Wei Ying.

“Okay.” A deep breath, and hands that kept clenching and unclenching to regain feeling. “Tell me what you see.”

For now, there is nothing but –

A loud, mechanical sound came through, and Wei Wuxian could hear the other gasp, startled. He felt his body tense up, heart hammering suddenly against his ribcage.

“Lan Zhan?”

The facility powered on. It was sudden.

Wei Wuxian let out a breath, trying to relax away the tension in his muscles. “Okay. Is it clear?”

Seems so. There’s… something here.

There is a pause as Lan Wangji scans the structure. Wei Wuxian feels his palms sweat as he decides to maneuver the Seamoth to the base and try to think of building something to help in the meanwhile.

According to the databank, it’s an ion fabricator. It creates ion deposits that can be then mined for cubes.

Wei Wuxian sighed, both frustrated and disappointed. “But the prawn is ruined, so we can’t use it.”

Mn… A pause, before Lan Wangji continued, There are also various artifacts here, I can scan them for you if you want. While I try to find an exit.

Wei Wuxian found himself smiling slightly, “You know I can’t resist recording some of this really cool alien data. Perhaps it will be worth something when we get back home, and I’ll finally get funding for my research lab.”

Lan Wangji’s tone softened ever so slightly.

I will do my best to gather as much information as I can. There are seven entrances I can access freely, and I believe this facility’s main purpose is exactly that, research.

The situation must have definitely worn down on him as well, despite his attempts to downplay it – and now it was the first time since he’d so very narrowly escaped death that he could think of something else but survival. He found himself wishing Wei Ying was there to marvel at the alien architecture and technology and make that place a little less terrifying, a little less treacherous.

“I’m trying to come up with something to help you, maybe there’s something I can build using our storage…”

No time for that.

“Lan Zhan-”

Have any of our sea creatures hatched yet?

Wei Wuxian sighed, deciding to give in to the deflection. He would try to find a solution regardless, but he supposed it was better for Lan Wangji not to have to worry about him as well. With all his inventiveness and prowess, even Wei Wuxian himself could admit that he could be reckless sometimes - especially when his beloved’s life was at stake.

So, Wei Wuxian’s eyes flitted towards the aquarium, in search of new little creatures. He had not even thought to look at it, overcome with dread and anxiety - however, the eggs sat motionless in the sand, no sign of any ready to leave their encasing.

“Not yet. I think they’re waiting for you.” Wei Wuxian’s voice shook slightly, feeling the other’s absence now more than ever, “Don’t let me be a single parent, alright?”

I will come back to you.

Wei Wuxian opened his and Lan Wangji’s shared data bank just so he would have something to do - something other than be afraid - and, for a moment, he became distracted with what his husband had recorded for him.

“All of this… so many species, they were so thorough…”

I believe we’ve encountered most of these, except for the Sea Emperor Leviathan. There's a preserved fetus here that the researchers appear to have been unable to utilize.

“They were looking for the Enzyme, weren’t they? Just like we are…”

How are your symptoms?

“Just like usual.” Wei Wuxian lied, and he knew Lan Wangji didn’t believe it either, but he didn’t press the issue. In fact, just that morning, right after Lan Wangji had left for the depths, Wei Wuxian had a flare up, a painful, bloody coughing fit followed by a bout of hallucinations that nearly had him destroy important components of their base in an uncontrollable rage.

If they didn’t find a way to access the Enzyme, Wei Wuxian could not help but fear he would end up being the one to hurt his husband and kill both of them in the process.

There isn’t just alien technology here.

“What do you mean?”

There is a 15th century sword here. From Earth.

Wei Wuxian tapped his chin in thought, “15th century… the 1400s… The Renaissance? Galileo, Copernicus… could some of the greatest human achievements be credited to an alien race?”

Perhaps they did not become involved, merely observed and collected samples.

“Most likely, but that isn’t as entertaining.” Wei Wuxian allowed himself a small laugh. “This is going to make Earth historian meetings a lot more interesting when it gets out.”

Lan Wangji let out a huff, almost chastising Wei Wuxian for the oncoming scientific chaos he seemed eager to cause. But in truth, he missed the other’s humor, the little remarks he would make whenever something surprised him - and the alien base was indeed surprising. Wei Wuxian would have to make do with the scans and the data, though - as well as Lan Wangji’s stories. And while he had never been much of a storyteller, he would try. He would tell Wei Wuxian anything and everything he wanted about that place as long as he managed to get out of there alive.

There was silence for a while again as Lan Wangji scanned through the artifacts and explored the area, though it was less nerve-wracking this time, because Wei Wuxian could hear him breathe, and move – and though it was not ideal, it was more than enough for now. However, the anxiety ate away at Wei Wuxian regardless – he could not be there with his husband, could not see what he was seeing, and couldn't help him.

Not to mention, Lan Wangji’s options were limited - without the prawn suit, there was not much he could do and there was nothing he could use to either defend himself or build something to escape.

The communication system came to life again. I’ve reached some sort of pipe room. There is tubing, where infected peepers swim through and come out cured.

Wei Wuxian tapped his chin again. Could that be part of the alien’s project to cure Khara’a? Had they managed to get some kind of experiment to be successful or was there something else healing the fish?

“Can you trace back where the healthy ones are coming from? Maybe that’s where the cure is.”

The tubing system appears to be built into the facility somehow, I cannot follow it…there is no exit here, either.

A cold shiver ran down Wei Wuxian’s spine, and though he had never been superstitious, he could not help the sinking feeling that settled into his gut. “Be – Be careful, alright? If there’s anything – “

There is not. And, in a softer, soothing voice, Trust me, Wei Ying. I will be alright.

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if seeking warmth, comfort. His voice had dropped as well, unsure of whether he wanted to speak out loud or not. “This is really difficult for me, you know? You’re down there, and I’m up here, and I can’t do anything…”

I know. It will be over soon.

Wei Wuxian did not find comfort in those words at all, feeling his eyes well up again. “Don’t say it like that.”

I apologize. I meant that this… unpleasant situation will be over soon. I will not. We will not.

Wei Wuxian desperately wanted to believe that, to hang onto Lan Wangji’s words like they were the promise of the heavens and not even dare to question them. But this planet is not a place for hope, for optimism - it’s a merciless underwater jungle, hell beneath a sparkling blue surface. And there had never been room for hope in the abyss.

I have found another… doorway. It is guarded by a forcefield.

Wei Wuxian quickly wiped at his face, clearing his throat so he could speak. “Where does it lead?””

I can’t tell.

“You’ve already used up the tablet we found, though… ” Wei Wuxian all but wailed. “God, if only I could find a way to –“

I have brought a second tablet, Wei Ying. Lan Wangji interrupted, only a little bit smug about it. I was granted access.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help a little smile. “Always so well prepared, of course my husband would foresee even the most unexpected things.”

But instead of some teasing reply back, Wei Wuxian was once again met with silence, and he realized the more time passed without hearing his husband, the more the dread he’d barely managed to stave off returned.

“Lan Zhan? What’s going on?”

There was no response. Of course, Wei Wuxian could hear the other breathe still, and nothing violent seemed to have happened because Wei Wuxian had not heard anything to cause him worry.

So then why wasn’t his husband replying?

“Lan Zhan?”

Yes. I am here.

“Are you alright?”

Do you remember the vision I had?

“With that female creature thing?”

Yes.

“What about it?”

She’s calling for me.

Wei Wuxian felt ice invade his bloodstream, his voice unsteady as he spoke. “Lan Zhan, that wasn’t real.”

It is now.

“Lan Zhan!” He all but screamed, slamming his hands into one of the ship’s consoles. “Whatever that thing told you, it wasn’t real. Don’t listen to it!”

Lan Wangji did not reply, but Wei Wuxian did not want to allow silence to take over again. He struggled to steady his breaths, quick as they were, and continued, “Tell me what you see.”

A moonpool.

“That’s…all?”

Yes.

“Lan Zhan, you’re – are you going in?”

There must be something of value here, otherwise they would not have guarded it like this.

“There could also be something dangerous they wanted sealed away. Lan Zhan, we can’t just infer on –“

There is no other way, Wei Ying.

“Did -” Wei Wuxian swallowed back his tears and the mounting despair, “Did that thing you saw lure you in there?”

Was his husband losing his mind? Was that it then? He would jump into the water, right in the jaws of whatever awaited him there, and Wei Wuxian would be left to, once again, listen to it happen? Would his husband go die willingly?!

Wei Ying, I am still of sound mind. If whatever I am seeing was trying to kill me, it would have already. But I think this is different.

It was growing increasingly difficult for Wei Wuxian to control his emotions, voice coming out louder and more desperate than he had intended. “Lan Zhan, you - we can’t just risk so much for a hunch!”

There is nothing else to do. I either take the risk, and perhaps find a way home, or I die here.

Wei Wuxian could hear the echo of his husband approaching the water, and the sound of his body disturbing the surface, little ripples hitting against him. “W-What if there is something else, what if you haven’t found it and you’re just – you’re killing yourself for no reason?!”

Lan Wangji remained ever so calm, There is nothing else. I’ve checked everything.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes scanned wildly around the base, hoping that a solution would manifest itself out of thin air for him to hang onto. “Then – then wait, I can try to upgrade the Cyclops! I-I have enough time to go find the materials we’re missing, it’s only a few things, I can already set up the map and-“

Wei Ying. I asked you to trust me.

Wei Wuxian all but slid, bonelessly, against the console, voice breaking, “I do, Lan Zhan, I trust you and I love you and I… I can’t let you – I can’t lose you. I don’t want to, and I’m-“

I love you.

It was too late to stop himself from crying now, “Don’t say it like you’ll never say it again.”

I’m going in.

“Lan Zhan…”

And once again, Wei Wuxian found himself surrounded by silence. What could he do now? Who could even know what Lan Zhan would find, what kind of creature would tear him apart without any hope of fighting back? And when - if - that happened, what would Wei Wuxian do?

He needed his husband, needed to not feel like the world had forgotten him there and was waiting for him to die just like everybody else already had. He needed to not be alone, to have someone to live for, to fight for, to make him feel like there was still a point to his struggle to survive.

And he still - A-Yuan was still at home, waiting for him. Waiting for both of them - to come back and tell him stories about worlds further away than even his imagination could take him… to tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight, and make his favorite breakfast every morning… What would Wei Wuxian tell his son when he asked about his a-Die? That some terrible monster tricked him into offering himself as sacrifice in a strange facility deep inside a cursed sea? Wouldn’t A-Yuan ask ‘where were you then, baba? why didn’t you do anything’? What would Wei Wuxian tell him? That he was incapable? Useless? That he hadn’t even tried?

Would his son not hate him then? Would he not hate himself? Would it be right for him to keep living?

Wei Ying! Wei Ying, can you hear me?

Wei Wuxian did not react at first. There was no way that was his husband. Perhaps that creature had found a way to reach Wei Wuxian, and was trying to make him believe in delusions so he would jump into the water and let himself be killed as well.

But Wei Wuxian would not let that happen. He would not give in, and he would not allow this horrid place to kill him. If he decided he would die, he would do so on his own terms - and if these monsters had taken his husband away from him, he would not give them the satisfaction to take him too, to claim another life.

Wei Ying! I’m - there wasn’t a monster, it saved me! I’m trying to…

“Get lost.” Wei Wuxian almost wanted to laugh. That’s what that monster would want him to believe, right? That Lan Zhan was alive, so he would run out and try to find him, only to fall prey to it!

I’m - I don’t know where I am, I can’t… go on any further…

“I said, get lost!”

What an annoying creature! Did it not realize Wei Wuxian would not fall for its tricks? If only he had the equipment to go out there and kill it - kill all of them, everything, destroy the whole place, blow the whole planet all up until there was no trace left of it, of anyone or anything…

His eyesight blurred, anger simmering beneath his skin. He was having another flare up, wasn’t he? The bacterium was going to kill him… how disgusting…

Wei Ying, I know you’re angry, please, just listen…

Wei Wuxian coughed out a mouthful of blood. Why won’t the damn thing shut up already?!

“Get lost!”

Wei Ying… I know you’re sick, I know… know you don’t mean to… just… just listen… for a little bit…

Wei Wuxian heaved a long, painful breath, the pressure against his ribcage bringing some clarity to his mind. He could hear the other struggling to catch his breath, a sound far too realistic for anything on that planet to be able to make it.

What if that was indeed Lan Zhan?

Wei Ying… the cure… the Sea Emperor Leviathan is… her eggs… go and… free them and… I…

All Wei Wuxian could hear now were quick, shallow breaths - and he sprinted towards the Seamoth with all his might, more afraid now than he had ever been before. Would his husband die before he reached him with the Seamoth? Had he been so incredibly dumb to think someone was playing mind tricks on him and left his husband to die in the middle of the ocean?!

Would Lan Zhan die thinking Wei Ying let him -

The radar on the ship blinked rapidly as it detected the temperature pattern of a human being less than 300 meters away - Lan Zhan was close, a lot closer than Wei Wuxian had thought him to be. If he hadn’t snapped out of that trance, if he hadn’t -

When he got close enough, Wei Wuxian was quick to jump out of the vehicle towards the floating, aimless body of his husband. He was unconscious, but not dead - he couldn’t be dead. Wei Wuxian would never forgive himself if his mistake killed his beloved, and he would betray his promise and take his life right there.

So, with shaking, fearful hands, and tears clouding his vision, Wei Wuxian brought his husband into the Seamoth and carefully removed his helmet so he could breathe freely. But the first thing Wei Wuxian noticed, other than the slow breaths that fanned from his beloved’s lips, were two shining tear tracks down his face.

–

The vehicle surfaced with ease. Outside, the planet’s sun shone brightly on a clear sky, casting light over the wild greenery of the Mountain Island.

Wei Wuxian let the hull of the Seamoth open, warm rays of sunlight cascading over Lan Wangji’s face. He had carefully placed his husband in his arms as he sat in the captain’s seat, never wanting to let him go again, and so he anchored the ship to the shore like a sailboat, rocking with the tiny waves like a child’s crib.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

Lan Wangji had not been unconscious for long. It was likely that exhaustion caught up to him before he could make it ashore - after all, no matter how strong, he was still human. A human that had barely survived a nearly fatal attack and then ran around a strange place in search for a way out, not unlike a trapped animal seeking escape from its cage. Anybody else in his place would have been long gone - so much effort for his body to take, on top of being infected by a powerful bacterium… it was a wonder he was still alive. A miracle, even.

Running a hand through Lan Wangji’s sweat-damp hair, Wei Wuxian could not help the tears in his eyes from falling as he leaned down to leave a soft, chaste kiss over his love’s forehead. He had almost lost him - and not even because of a mindless sea monster or a twisted form of technology.

He could have killed his husband himself.It felt sacrilegious to love on him now - to touch him, to hold him. But Wei Wuxian could not help it, not as his body still trembled with the horrors that he had had to live through. Or rather, to witness. He would never forget that suffocating feeling of helplessness, the despair that came with hitting the limits of technology and his own humanity.

It flows out of him almost as smoothly as his tears do - a song so full of heart and longing and love, that the world around disappears into it.

And then, quietly, a second voice joins in, humming along the beautiful melody and the shaking voice of his beloved.

The song cuts off into sobs and I love yous, and the sound of the waves lapping at the sides of the floating ship…

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #subnautica au

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